


In Between the Lines

by Queen_Ghidorah



Category: Sly Cooper (Video Games)
Genre: Compilation, Ficlets, Multi, Will add things as they come, collection, find me on tumblr for prompts and such!, sly cooper - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2020-01-01 09:34:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 41
Words: 49,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Ghidorah/pseuds/Queen_Ghidorah
Summary: A collection of Sly Cooper ficlets, prompts and AU's from my tumblr.





	1. Online dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU where Sly goes on a dating website and meets Carmelita

 

The raccoon stared at the glowing laptop screen in front of him, his mind blank and his tail twitching absentmindedly.

Why had he agreed to this exactly?

Because his brothers had thought this was a good idea. Because for his birthday they decided to open an account for him. Because they wanted him to do something  _besides_ stealing.

Because apparently, he needed a girlfriend.

Sly Cooper, the World Famous Master Thief, was now online dating.

_Well, there’s a first time for everything._

He sighed. Although Sly had nothing against dating, he had to admit meeting someone on the internet was rather,  _déclassé_ for his tastes.

He’d much rather prefer bumping into someone on the street. Or striking up a conversation in a coffee shop.

Or even better, running into someone during a heist.

Unfortunately, this was the real world. And apparently if Sly wanted to date, he would have to do it the boring, civilian way.

He clicked on his picture on the website and checked his profile. It was surprisingly normal, displaying his name, age, species, interests and,  _occupation_.

Where it read “self-employed,” most likely put there by Bentley. The turtle had taken it upon himself to carefully construct a harmless online dating account for Sly, one that absolutely could NOT be hacked or traced, he’d triple checked.

His interests were also crafted up by Bentley. Mostly average things. Fine dining, cinema, novels, jazz, long walks on the beach ( _seriously Bentley?_ ) Things that Sly liked but didn’t really care about, things that didn’t really unpack Sly’s true personality.

Only one interest remained honest to Sly’s preferences:  _museums_. Although what Sly particularly liked most about museums was  **robbing** them, he also enjoyed museums for the history they held and the stories they told. A museum full of artifacts was the equivalent of a store full of candy for Sly. He had practically dragged Bentley and Murray to every museum in Paris during their downtime.

A small ding from the computer caught Sly’s attention, and he clicked the notification box on the top right of the screen.

_You have 230 matches!_

“Oh geez,” Sly breathed. He had slightly hoped for at least 10 matches but 230? He would be there for hours…

“Might as well see what my options are”

He scrolled through his matches.  _No, no, oh god no…_

Most of the people he had matched with were young, promiscuous women. Women with overly dyed-fur making duck faces in their pictures with one too many camera filters. Women that would love Sly for his looks but would be bored with his passions. Women that just wanted to hook up for a good time and nothing more. 

After an hour of endless scrolling and constant no’s, Sly was ready to hurl the laptop out the nearest window. He didn’t need this. He was absolutely FINE with being a bachelor right now. This was stupid, he didn’t-

 _Wait_.

A streak of orange caught his eye and he quickly scrolled back up to take a good look at the profile picture.

A picture of a good-looking vixen on his screen was what grabbed his attention. She had a heart shaped face, surrounded by deep cobalt curls, with a sole golden loop earring on her left black-tipped ear. She wasn’t smiling, and she certainly wasn’t posing for the camera, but rather smirking, her caramel eyes radiating with confidence. Like she knew something the cameraman didn’t, like she could see right through Sly and his little dating charade.

Out of curiosity (and hidden arousal), Sly clicked on her profile.

Her name was Carmelita Fox. She was a few years older than him but she mirrored his interests almost perfectly. She loved to read, visit the gym, and especially loved mysteries, preferably ones involving murder (Sly could work with that).

And to put the icing on the cake, she loved to visit museums.

Sly didn’t need any more convincing, he was about to click the “meet” button but then he saw her occupation.

_Detective Inspector, Interpol._

His heart nearly stopped.

His instincts screamed at him to close to laptop. To delete his account and tell Bentley that they needed to move hideouts ASAP. To tell his brothers that online dating was great in theory but horrible in motion.

After the sudden adrenaline rush Sly came back to reality. Why was he so nervous? The account was  **untraceable** , Bentley had sworn on his mother’s grave that the laptops’s ip address was completely encrypted; even an army of IT workers wouldn’t be able to track it.

Still, if Bentley found out that Sly was about to hook up with an  **officer of the LAW** , he’d have an aneurysm.

But Sly couldn’t deny the thrill of it: a wanted criminal and a cop, meeting through an online dating website. Completely unaware of each other’s true professions, like something out of a movie.

It was a bad idea. A terrible one really. It posed a lot of risk…

But that was just it, Sly  _loved_ taking risks.

Taking a deep breath and making sure neither Bentley or Murray were around, Sly clicked “meet.”

 

* * *

 

Carmelita came straight home after work, and as soon as she shut the door to her apartment she heard a slight “ping”.

She took out her phone from her bag and checked her notifications. The dating app (that she had begrudgingly created an account with after Vi had pestered her for weeks on end) had a small green dot on the top right. 

The vixen opened the app, someone wanted to meet her.

She was met with a picture of a rather handsome raccoon, smiling impishly in his profile. There was also an address to a quite fancy and exquisite restaurant in the northern section of Paris listed below, with the date being this Saturday.

There was a green button at the bottom of the screen with the words: “Agree to Meet?”

A free dinner at a fancy restaurant with an astonishingly gorgeous mammal?

How could she say no?

“Well, this is going to be interesting,” she said aloud, and tapped the “Agree to Meet?” button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you would like to submit a prompt, go check out my tumblr!)


	2. "I've had enough"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sly has a breakdown

“Freeze Cooper!”

Inspector Carmelita Fox pointed her pistol at the raccoon sitting on the edge of the building rooftop, but to her surprise he didn’t move.

The vixen had been on another one of her boring late-night patrols of Paris, on the look out for any troublemakers when she had noticed a blue and gray streak above on the rooftops. Her instincts kicking into high gear, Carmelita followed the thief over multiple buildings before he’d finally stopped and rested on a ledge.

She was expecting Sly to suddenly jump up, say some flirtatious line, and make a break for it, initiating their cat and mouse game for the night.

But he just sat there in silence.

Puzzled (and silently alarmed), Carmelita took a step closer.

“Hey! I’m talking to you Ringtail!”

Sly moved his head ever so slightly, but did not turn around.

“Go away.”

The fox blinked, then reared her head back in shock.

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me,” he replied, his voice cold as ice. “I said go away. I’m not in the mood tonight.”

Carmelita was appalled. Sly NEVER talked to her like that, let alone telling her to leave him alone was unheard of. He usually loved any attention he could get from the gorgeous Inspector, sometimes he’d even go as far as to break into her office just to say hello.

Outraged, the vixen stomped over to the raccoon.

“Who the hell do you think you-”

But before she could finish, Sly quickly sprung up. Faster than Carmelita could blink, he knocked the shock pistol out of her hand and wrapped his cane around her, pulling her close.

The fox was expecting a kiss, and prepared herself to smack him in response.

What she was not expecting was his bloodshot eyes and his gritted teeth as he stared her right in the face, melting away any leftover anger that she had, replacing it with fresh fear.

“Leave,” he snarled.

As quick as the thief had grabbed her, he released the stunned vixen, and turned back to the ledge. He was breathing heavily and he placed his hands on his hips, refusing to look at the Inspector. Carmelita staggered and took a few steps back, but remained where she was.

Something was horribly wrong.

This was not the Sly she knew. Something had obviously happened, but what?

Had he been hurt? Had something happened to one of his gang members?

Did she do something to upset him?

Carmelita quickly backtracked through the past month. The only things that had happened that were Cooper-related were Sly breaking into her office to steal that map, and the escape of the turtle named Bentley from the hospital.

Inspector Fox took a deep breath, then slowly approached the distraught raccoon.

“Sly?”

He sighed in annoyance. “I thought I asked you to leave.”

“You and I both know I’m not going to,” she replied coolly.

He put his face in his hands and spoke, his voice slightly muffled. 

“I  _really_ don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Well,” Carmelita argues, “it’s a bit late for that. So the sooner you tell me what happened, the sooner we can put this behind us.”

The raccoon pauses, then slowly turns around to face the vixen. His face is heavy with distress and his tail twitches in irritation.

“I’ve had enough,” he mumbles.

The fox’s ears perk up with alarm the second he utters that sentence. Her dealings with people in Sly’s state had been rare, but nevertheless they have never ended well. What unsettles Carmelita the most is the proximity between the thief and the building’s edge.

Her police instincts on high alert, the vixen quickly formulates a plan.

“Sly,” she calls. “I want you to elaborate when you say you’ve had enough.”

Sly looks at her, his eyes filled with sadness. He speaks, his voice cracking.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore ‘Lita.”

“Okay,” Carmelita responds. “I want you to tell me why you feel that way.”

The thief pauses, then looks away. A gust of wind comes by and ruffles his fur ever so slightly.

“Because,” he starts. “Because everything is my fault.”

“What do you mean?”

He shudders, and covers his eyes with his hand. Upon closer inspection Carmelita can notice tears streaming down his face.

“Murray left and Bentley’s paralyzed, all because of Clockwerk. Because of me and my family. Because I’m a thief.”

 _So that’s why he’s upset_ , the fox thinks. 

“Sly,” she calls. “I’m not supposed to make you feel better, but you are aware that Clockwerk wasn’t your fault right? You may be a thief, but you’re not responsible for what happened to your friends.”

“You don’t understand,” the raccoon wails. “If they hadn’t joined me in this then Bentley could still walk and Murray wouldn’t have been traumatized and-and you-”

He collapses on the rooftop in sobs, and Carmelita moves quickly. She rushes towards the thief and grabs him by the shoulders, pulling him away from the building ledge.

“Wha-What are you doing?”

“Making sure that you don’t do something stupid,” she replies gruffly.

They kneel there, Sly looking down in shame, while Carmelita checks if anyone is around. Once she confirms that the coast is clear, the vixen turns back to the raccoon.

“Ringtail, look at me.”

He slowly turns his head up and meets her eye level.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“But-”

“ **Promise** me.”

Her intense amber eyes meet his depressed brown ones, and he slowly nods.

They stay there for a moment, their eyes not breaking contact. Then Sly speaks.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have treated you like that before.”

“Apology accepted. But if you take that tone with me again, don’t expect me to let you off so easy.”

A small smile crosses his lips, “wouldn’t dream of it.”

Carmelita then stands up and offers her hand to the thief. He takes it, and rises.

“Sly,” she begins. “I think I understand enough that Bentley and Murray chose this life with you, right?”

He nods.

“So if they wanted to follow you down this path, then they knew the risks of this life, correct?”

He pauses, then nods again.

“That begin said, if they had known what would’ve happened to them during the Klaww Gang business, do you think they would’ve let you do all of that alone?”

Another pause, longer than the first.

“No.”

“And why is that?” Carmelita asks.

“Because we’re a family,” he responds. 

“Exactly.”

Sly sighs. His tears have ceased and a small smile finds a place on his face. He looks at Carmelita with a soft expression.

“Can I get a hug?”

The fox cocks her head. She  _should_ say no, but after the events of tonight something else tells her otherwise.

“Fine, but only for a few seconds.”


	3. "I wish you'd wake up already"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmelita visits Sly in the hospital

Carmelita opens the door to the lonely hospital room and quietly shuts it behind her. The blinds are drawn, and there’s a dim overhead light above the hospital bed, illuminating the countless medical machines and wires hooked up to its patient.

She walks over to the side of the bed and sighs.

“Hey Ringtail.”

There’s no response, but what was she expecting? It’s not like her voice alone would be enough to wake him up. After all, the doctors themselves had said that the trauma was so severe that it would take a miracle for him to wake up at all.

The fox pulls up a chair and sits down. Her tail curls around the seat and she hunches over, clasping her hands together in order to prevent them from fidgeting.

“Today makes day 37,” she says quietly. “If you can hear me, and I  _know_ you can hear me, I just wanted to tell you that the paperwork finally went through. That means when you come back you will immediately be put on trial in a court of law to atone for your crimes.”

There’s no response.

“It’s going to be all over the media,” Carmelita continues. “I know how much you  _love_ attention, so I took the liberty of making sure that every news outlet worldwide televises your trial. BBC, CNN, the Times, they’re all going to be there to witness your downfall firsthand,  _criminal_.”

Silence.

The vixen huffs and folds her arms. “Don’t think your little gang will come to save you this time either. This room is under 24-hour surveillance. There are Interpol agents at the door round the clock, and the window is triple padlocked and shatterproof. The only people that are even allowed in here are myself and a select number of doctors that require fingerprint and retina scans every time they enter.”

Nothing.

Carmelita drags a hand down her face. If Cooper by some miracle was conscious, then he was doing a fantastic job of faking his condition. 

But she looks at the young raccoon, eyes closed and head bandaged, and pushes the thought out of her mind. He wasn’t faking, he  _couldn’t_ be, he’d taken such a beating back at the Vault that if she hadn’t come and saved his ass, he would already be dead.

She wishes she could stop thinking about what had happened, how it all went wrong. She had spent so many sleepless nights pondering on what could’ve been, if she’d only been faster, if she’d only break into the Inner Sanctum sooner.

If only she’d been the one to take the bullet.

“I wish you’d wake up already,” the fox whispers to the unconscious thief.

_Not her!_

Those two words echoed in Carmelita’s mind almost every day. Why couldn’t he just have let her get shot? Why did he always have to put her first? 

 _You know why_ , a voice says in the back of her mind.

And, to her horror, tears begin to form in her eyes.

Damn her. Damn that raccoon. Damn this world to Hell.

Carmelita draws in a shaky breath and wills every fiber in her body to force the tears streaming down her face to cease.

But they don’t.

The walls that she had taken so much time to build around herself begin to crumble, and her vat of emotions threatens to overflow.

“You idiot, you fool, you goddamned moron,” Carmelita rasps, her voice starting to choke. She swallows, but the lump in her throat refuses to recede.

She wants to smack him awake, she wants to scream at him, she wants him to open his eyes and smile at her and crack some flirtatious joke. 

She desperately wants him to come back to her, because she’s just  _dying_ to know if he meant it, what he said at the Vault, what he had told her all those years.

_The psychotic mandrill pointed his weapon at her and fired. But before she could react, there was a blur of gray and blue, and then a sickening CRACK._

_Time seemed to slow down as the raccoon flew over her head and crumpled on the upper alcove._

_The monkey laughed in triumph, but it was short lived, as his laughter turned to a scream of agonizing pain when Carmelita shot him square in the chest. He collapsed, and did not get up again._

_The vixen sprung up to the alcove and rushed to the thief’s aid._

_“Sly?”  
_

_But there was no response._

_No._

_She checked his wrist and silently thanked God that she found a pulse. The hit must’ve knocked him out cold._

_She hoisted the raccoon on her back, noting how surprisingly heavy he was, and slowly crawled her way out of the Vault as it began to cave in_.

It was after calling for backup and placing the thief in the care of Interpol’s doctors that she noticed something was wrong. First they moved him to a hospital, then they performed every medical test they could, and it was only after the fifth day of Cooper being unconscious when they finally told her.

That Sly Cooper was in a coma.

That they didn’t know when he’d wake up.

That they didn’t know if he’d wake up at all.

She had taken the news with a face of stone, but after 32 days of checking, 32 days of waiting, 32 days of Sly Cooper hopelessly laying there in the hospital bed, her heart finally had caught up with her.

Carmelita quickly wipes away her tears, so the security cameras in the room don’t see, and abruptly springs up from her seat.

“I’ll be back,” she mumbles.

The fox then stomps over to the door and opens it, walking past the Interpol guards, who notice Carmelita’s flushed face but don’t dare to ask her what’s wrong.

She quickly walks down the hall and takes the elevator to the hospital parking garage, where her red sports car waits.

She gets in and slams the car door, and her world comes tumbling down.

Sly Cooper was in a coma because he had taken a bullet meant for her.

Because, after all this time, he loved her.

And Carmelita began to sob. 


	4. 3:00 am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sly can't sleep, so he does some thinking.

Sly couldn’t sleep.

He tosses and turns in his small bed, but regardless of what he did, sleep did not come.

He huffs in annoyance and checks the clock on his nightstand.

 _3:00 am_.

Typical.

He rises from his bed and stretches. Usually on nights like these he would be out and about, running and jumping from rooftop to rooftop, swinging and climbing all over his Parisian playground that was the city. But a few days ago he had slipped during one of his runs and had taken a nasty fall, resulting in a sprained ankle and a couple of bruises.

Bentley had insisted that Sly take it easy for the time being so he could heal properly for future heists. Even though Sly loathed the idea, he couldn’t deny the throbbing pain in his leg every time he tried to demonstrate that he was fine.

So a week of house arrest it was.

The raccoon made his way over to his desk and took a seat. There wasn’t much on the desk, save for some sheets of notes regarding a target, a couple of spare lockpicks and his thigh pouch.

He drums his fingers against the wood in boredom, and he decides to recalibrate his binnocucom. Sly picks up his pouch and opens it, sliding out the device. But his fingers are clumsy, and he drops the pouch on the desk, scattering its components.

He curses quietly, and inspects what he’s spilled. His lucky lockpick, a few smoke bomb tablets, and some old recon photos.

The photos pique Sly’s interest, and he picks up the first one to see what’s on it. It’s a picture of an antique golden necklace, and Sly remembers it from one of his first heists. Apparently the necklace had been “borrowed” from a German museum by a notoriously crooked curator and moved to a private collection for the elite. Sly and his gang had taken the liberty of not only stealing it back, but also exposing the curator through a series of photographs and video surveillance.

He chuckles as he remembers the curator’ s face in the newspaper the next morning, and moves to the next photograph.

The second picture is of the leaning tower of Pisa, and Sly remembers he, Bentley and Murray taking a vacation to Italy to celebrate after Clockwerk was defeated for the first time. He distinctly remembers Murray ordering 7 scoops of gelato and the vendor looking at him with a strange expression.

He picks up the third picture and it’s-

 _Oh_.

It’s a picture of Carmelita Fox, in her trademark stunning black dress, from India.

Sly swallows. Hard.

He had forgotten about this picture. Specifically he had forgotten that this was the second copy, and that he had taken 2 pictures of Carmelita from Rajan’s ball, one for Bentley and one for himself.

She’s not smiling in the photograph, but she’s not frowning either. Rather, she looks observant, aloof. She has one hand placed on the balcony, looking out to the crowd below, subconsciously taking note of all the criminals that were invited to the party.

She looks gorgeous.

Sly must have studied this photo at least a hundred times. But every time he gazes at her photograph he notices things that he didn’t notice before. The pattern of her cream and orange fur, her winged eyeliner, the stray blue curls that fall into her face.

Sly sighs. In reality, the last thing he wants to think about late at night is the attractive Inspector. The reason being that when he does finally fall asleep, his dreams will consist of nothing but her.

He will admit that he’s lovesick. Hell, half the time she comes into conversation, Bentley and Murray roll their eyes and joke about Sly’s infatuation with the fox.

What he’s not ready to admit, however, is how obsessed he actually is with her. To the point where it becomes dangerous. To the point where he purposely screws up heists for her, how he goes out of his way to flirt with her, how he sometimes visits her apartment and/or office just to see how’s she doing.

Sly doesn’t mean to be creepy, no. The last thing he wants to do is invade her privacy. He just can’t stand not seeing her for a certain amount of time, after all her job comes with its risks. He doesn’t dare to imagine a scenario where Carmelita gets in over her head, and results in something terrible happening to her.

The thief runs his hands down his face, and shoves the pictures back into the pouch.

As much as he doesn’t want to think about Carmelita right now, his brain betrays him, and he goes even further with his thoughts. He thinks about her outfit, about her tastes, about her apartment. He wants to ask her so many questions. He wants to know more about her, so he can surprise her with things she likes.

He wants her.

_Oh no._

He hates it whenever other men try to get her attention.

_Oh no. Oh no._

He constantly imagines retiring just to be with her.

_Oh God please no._

Sly wants to scream, beg his brain to stop this agonizing train of thought.

And then reality comes back and crashes against him, like a bucket of ice water.

He  _can’t_.

He can’t be with her. He can’t just drop everything and run into her arms. He doesn’t even know if she feels anything for him.

She probably hates him.

And that’s what saddens him the most.

Sly abruptly gets up from his desk and opens the window. The cool night air flows in from the outside, blowing gently against his fur.

He stands there, leaning out the window, yearning for a run, thinking about how he can never be with the woman he loves. The raccoon forgets how long he’s been there, but eventually his eyelids begin to droop, and his body insists that he gets some rest.

He finally moves away from the window and makes his way back to his bed and falls on it.

At least he’ll be with her in his dreams.


	5. "I can't be in love with you!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bentley thinks about Murray and how much he's grown.

Bentley pinched his nose and sighed in annoyance. He was currently pouring over the blueprints to the time machine in order to try and find some sort of way to bring Sly home. But not knowing  _when_ the raccoon was made the task next to impossible.

He rubbed his eyes and examined his notes, there had to be some sort of loophole…

_If only Penelope were here…_

The intrusive thought makes the turtle shake his head with anger. Penelope was in  _jail_ , where she belonged. He had made his peace with the traitorous mouse long ago. That metaphorical bridge was thoroughly burned to a crisp.

Nevertheless, the old wound still brought him pain.

After everything they had been through, after everything he had risked for her, how could she turn around and spit in his eye?!

He still couldn’t understand for the life of him  _why_ , even months after the Le Paradox incident. He had really,  _really_ liked her.

Even loved her.

And now he was alone again. 

Bentley wheeled himself away from his desk and made his way over to the modified van, desperately trying to distract himself from the pursuing thoughts of  _her_.

Was he just destined to be alone?

 _No,_  he argued to himself. _I have Sly and Murray, they’re all that I need._

_Maybe you have Murray, but not Sly._

Bentley hissed in annoyance, but had to admit it: even if by some miracle Sly had returned, he would just go running back to Carmelita. And after they made up they would probably pick up where they left off.

Together.

Because he had her, and Bentley had no one.

Almost.

As if on cue, there was knock from the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened and Murray walked into what had been the hazard room, ducking underneath the small door frame as he entered.

“Hey buddy, how’s it going?”

“Fine,” the turtle responded gruffly.

The hippo cocked his head. “You don’t sound fine…”

“Of course I’m not fine! Can’t you see that I’m working on finding a way to bring Sly back, which is damn near  _impossible_!!”

Murray’s ears drooped. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to check on you. I’ll-I’ll leave you alone now…”

Bentley suddenly turned to face Murray, biting his tongue.

“Wait, I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” 

He wheeled over to his longtime friend, and gently placed his hand on his arm.

“I would love to hang out and talk for a little while.”

Murray’s face lit up at those words, and he and Bentley made their way over to his desk.

“So how was your day?”

 

* * *

 

Talking with Murray always seemed to cheer up Bentley whenever he seemed down. Of course, he couldn’t really talk about his interests in depth, otherwise the hippo would look at him as if he was an alien from another planet. So their conversations were usually about things Murray could easily understand.

In a way, Bentley admires Murray. He had grown so much since they had left the orphanage. He had faced his demons and fought them off, and no matter what the brawn always had the turtle’s back.

No matter what, they would always be together. Even if Sly was gone.

Murray was strong, loyal, and caring. He was everything that Bentley valued, everything that grounded him to this world.

He was awesome.

Murray bids Bentley goodnight after hours of talking, and the turtle wheeled himself to his room. As he gets ready for bed, his mind can’t stray away from the hippo, replacing his thoughts about Penelope.

Lately Murray had been working out twice as often in order to stay in shape for his new wrestling career. His muscles were bigger than ever, and for some reason Bentley can’t stop thinking about how burly his best friend has gotten.

He’s surprised that Murray hasn’t found a lady friend yet…

 _Wait_.

Why was he thinking about Murray’s love life?

Why did he care even  _care_?

Bentley freezes midway putting on his pajama top as the thought suddenly hits him out of nowhere.

_Do you like him?_

_Of course!_ He responds internally. _We’ve been friends since childhood!_

_I meant as more than friends…_

Bentley eyes widen at the realization.

_He was in love with Murray._

Impossible! He couldn’t be! How could he in love with Murray after just getting over Penelope!?

Did he just fall in love that easily??

But he looks back and begins to notice the small things. How strong he was, how faithful he was…

How  _handsome_ he had gotten…

Bentley shakes his head so hard his glasses fall off. Even if he was in love with Murray, there was no way it could work! They were just too  _different_ …

Or were they?

 _ENOUGH_. Bentley thinks.  _Now is not the time to think about that._

The turtle climbs into his bed and turns off the light. A good night’s rest will help him straighten his head.

Unfortunately, Bentley doesn’t get it. As his dreams consist of nothing but Murray.


	6. "As we huddle together, the storm raging outside"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean Bison and Arpeggio are stranded during a snowstorm.

 

The crimson bison looks out the frosty window of the small cabin. Outside the blizzard raged on, showing no signs of relief.

“Yeah, this one’s real nasty,” he huffs. “I recon we should hunker down here and wait it out. I’m real sorry about this.”

He turns to his feathery companion, sitting on a perch right next to the fireplace. The bird shakes his head.

“Nonsense Jean! Any time with you is time well spent!”

Jean Bison blushes, but it was well hidden by the shade of his fur. He lumbers his way towards Arpeggio and sits down in his favorite arm chair. 

“I wanted to thank you by the way.”

The parrot turns his head. “For the parts? Of course! You’ve earned them my dear fellow! We couldn’t have-”

“Not for the parts,” he interrupts. “I, uh, never thanked you for rescuing me from the ice.”

Arpeggio’s gaze softens, and Jean continues.

“You were the one who found me and nursed me back to health. I owe you my life, if you hadn’t thawed me out then I don’t even think I would’ve survived for much longer.”

“It is quite the miracle,” the bird replies. “But nevertheless you are very welcome. I wasn’t just going to leave you.”

The bison smiles. “That’s not all, you were also the one who let me in with your crew. You, uh, helped me get back on my feet. I really don’t know what I would’ve done, waking up 120 years in the future where all of sudden I can’t chop down trees anymore…”

He trails off, and looks down at the floor. “Boy howdy times have changed.”

“Yes,” Arpeggio answers sadly, looking back at the fire. “Time can be a cruel thing.”

Jean says nothing, and the parrot begins to ponder. Should he change the subject? Or should he take advantage of the intimate moment, find out more about his partner in crime? The bison usually kept his past to himself, and there were so many things he was dying to know.

The two sit there for a few minutes in silence, occasionally interrupted by the howling of the wind or the crackling of the fire.

Then Arpeggio speaks.

“Do you miss them?”

The large mammal looks up and blinks in confusion. “Miss who?”

“You know, your family.”

He thinks for a minute. “Yeah, I do. They cross my mind from time to time again.”

“What were they like?”

The bison shifts his weight. “Pa was a real tough fellow. Hard as nails and loved his drink. But he taught me everything I know: how to hunt, how to fish, how to build a cabin. He was a real man of the outdoors. And Ma loved him all the same. She was mighty fine, and nobody in town could compete with her cooking. One of the things I miss the most was her homemade venison stew.”

Jean pauses, his eyes heavy with unspoken emotion. “I miss Jack too.”

“Jack?”

He nods. “When I left home to ‘Tame the Wild North,’ I went to a lumber camp for work and met Jack, a lynx. He came from America to strike it rich, and he and I really hit it off. Jack was a real smart fellow, said he knew where to find the best ore and lumber. We worked together for years, clearing out forests and trading our goods. We dreamed of owning our own lumber company.”

Arpeggio leans forward, completely absorbed in the bison’s tale.

“But what happened?”

The bison sighs. “I don’t really know. One day Jack and I got a tip about a major gold ore vein located on a mountain. I insisted on scoping it out first, because Jack had a real bad cough that day, so I climbed the mountain alone. And that’s when the avalanche hit.”

Arpeggio blinks in shock. “I’m so sorry Jean, I had no idea.”

Jean sniffs. “It’s alright. I made my peace with it a long time ago. I just hope he had a good life without me.”

He turns to the parrot, “you know, you kind of remind me of him.”

The bird cocks his head. “Really, how so?”

“You have his brains,” the bison replies. “He would’ve liked you a whole lot, and he would’ve loved the Clockwerk parts. Jack was always fascinated with machines.”

“Yes well, it sounds like I would’ve liked him too.”

Jean Bison clears his throat, and the two men sit by the fire deep in thought.

A few moments pass by, then Jean speaks again.

“What about your family?”

Arpeggio cringes at the question. “Well, mother died when I was only a child, and my father didn’t really care that much for me. Unlike my older brother, I was born with a rare genetic defect, making my wings useless for flight. So he sent me off to boarding school when I was 10 years old so he could spend more time with his favorite son…”

Jean gapes at the parrot in shock, but Arpeggio continues, his tone bitter.

“A few years later my father and brother died in a horrific accident, so I was left with the family fortune. I continued to pursue my studies on aviation up until 2 years ago, when I heard of the defeat of the infamous Clockwerk. As much as I tried to bribe members of Interpol for possession of the parts, they were very uncompromising. So that’s when I decided to become a criminal so I could steal the parts, and thus I formed the Klaww Gang.”

After a few moments of silence, Jean breaks it.

“Wow, I’m…powerfully sorry. I had no idea.”

“It’s quite alright,” the bird responds. “As you said, I too have made my peace.”

They sit there staring into the fire, both of them quietly thinking about each other’s tales.

“Y’know,” Jean says. “You and I are kinda the same.”

Arpeggio turns to face the bison, and he continues.

“We’ve both been though our fair share of hard times. But we get what we want no matter what stands in our way. That, and we’re not alone anymore.”

He looks into Arpeggio’s eyes.

“We’ve got each other, don’t we?”

A small smile finds its way across the parrot’s beak.

“Yes, indeed we do.”

“And with your genius mind, and my manpower, that Cooper Gang don’t stand a chance against us!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jean Bison lets out a jaw-cracking yawn and looks at the clock on the wall. Upon seeing how late is is, he gets up from his chair and grabs a wool blanket from one of the shelves of the cabin.

The bison returns to the arm chair, and looks at Arpeggio reading a book from his perch.

“Aren’t you tired?”

The parrot looks up from his book. “Quite.”

“Do you wanna share?”

The red mammal beckons to himself and the blanket. Arpeggio thinks for a moment, and hops down from his perch. He makes his way towards Jean and leaps into his lap.

The bison covers himself and Arpeggio with the blanket, and he tucks them both in.

“Jean?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Jean Bison smiles fondly, “me too.”

They sit there, curled against one another, and moments later sleep takes them both as the storm rages on.


	7. "It was a joke baby, I swear"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This one gets violent.
> 
> (For context: this is an alternate timeline of my fic "Exile." Where Carmelita stays with the gang and Arpeggio becomes Clockwerk instead of Neyla.)

 

“Have you lost your bloody mind?!”

The parrot turned toward the enraged tigress, struggling within the grasp of the guards.

“Quite the contrary,” Arpeggio responded coolly. “I am entirely aware of your track record my dear, what makes you think that I would simply let you even  _touch_ the fully assembled Clockwerk? No,  _I_ am the one who obtained all the parts,  _I_ am the only one worthy of Clockwerk.”

“I beg to differ.”

Quicker than a jackrabbit, Sly Cooper jumped down from his hiding place. Wielding his cane, he dove towards the monocled bird.

But Arpeggio was one step ahead of him. He swiftly pulled out a revolver from his side and shot Sly in the leg.

The thief cried out in pain and crumpled to the ground. 

“Tsk, tsk,” said the parrot. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to interrupt?”

Sly snarled at him, but he continued.

“Then again, you were raised in an orphanage for most of your youth. I don’t expect any manners from the likes of you.”

Arpeggio snapped his fingers, and one of the guards stepped forward and restrained the raccoon.

“Arpeggio stop! Think about what you’re doing!”

“Oh I’ve thought about it,” he replied. “I’ve thought about this for  **years**.”

And, to the horror of Sly and Neyla, the parrot hopped down from his perch…

…Into Clockwerk’s gaping maw.

“NO,” Sly screamed.

But it was too late, with a sudden roar, the mechanical bird came to life in front of them. The yellow eyes blink once, twice, and the robotic owl cocked it head. It opened its mouth and spoke, its voice rumbling throughout the chamber.

**“BEHOLD. CLOCKWERK IS REBORN!”**

The machine spread its wings and let out a screech, shattering the glass of the blimp.

The robotic owl then turned once more to Neyla and Sly. Then it looked at the guards, taken aback by the machine but standing firm.

**“DEAL WITH THEM.”**

Then it flapped its wings, and soared out of the blimp, into the dark night sky.

The two guards violently shoved the raccoon and the tigress in front of them, and took out their guns, pointing them towards the two.

But before they could even pull the trigger, two streaks of electric blue hit both guards square in the chest.

The guards scream in pain and fall to the ground, their feathers slightly smoking.

Sly and Neyla both turn to find Carmelita Fox holding her shock pistol, breathing heavily.

“Carmelita,” Sly exclaimed. “Great timing! But we have to go after-”

But Carmelita didn’t seem to be listening, and she instead fired a third shot.

Right at Neyla’s chest.

The purple tigress screamed in anguish, and collapsed to the ground.

Carmelita fired a fourth time, then a fifth.

Neyla howled, and tears started to form in the corners of her eyes. Her fur beginning to singe from the electricity.

“CARMELITA,” Sly screamed. “STOP! WE NEED HER ALIVE!”

But Carmelita was not having it. She abruptly dropped her pistol and rushed over to the crumpled tigress.

The fox grabbed her by the headscarf and hoisted her to her knees.

“I’m sorry,” Neyla pleads, her voice hoarse. “Please, please, no more. I’m-.”

WHUMP!

The vixen’s fist connected with Neyla’s jaw, and specks of blood suddenly spurted out of her mouth.

Carmelita hit her a second time, then a third, then a fourth. Her knee slammed into Neyla’s chest, and the tigress gasped in pain. 

The fox threw the traitorous mammal to the ground and knelt on top of her, striking and kicking wherever she could hit.

Sly limped over and grabbed Carmelita. But she broke free, and continued her assault. By now the vixen’s gloves were covered in blood.

“CARMELITA YOU NEED TO STOP! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL HER!”

**“I don’t care.”**

“It was a joke, baby,” Neyla gurgled incoherently between strikes. “I swear.”

At this point Sly was desperately trying to drag Carmelita away from Neyla, but nothing seemed to work. Finally, Sly pinned down Carmelita, flipped her over, and handcuffed her hands together in order to stop the fox from killing the tigress.

Carmelita screamed in fury, and Sly grabbed Neyla’s whip and tied Carmelita’s legs together so she could’t get back up again.

“LET ME GO! I’M NOT FINISHED WITH THAT BITCH!”

“YOU ARE  _BEYOND_ FINISHED,” Sly screamed back at her. “We need her  _alive_ dammit!! How else are we going to prove your innocence?!”

The vixen opened her mouth, but then closed it. She struggled and screamed, but it was no use. 

Sly then turned to Neyla, crumpled on the ground. Her purple fur was charred black on her chest, and her face was bruised, bloody and swollen.

“H-Help…me…”

The thief looked at her, eyes filled with hatred.

“No.”

Sly then remembered the searing pain in his bleeding leg, and collapsed where he stood. He pulled out his binoccucom and radioed Bentley.

“I’m going to need your help guys.”


	8. "Take your medicine"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Torture
> 
> Carmelita spends her time at the Contessa's Rehab facility.

 

Carmelita groaned as she regained consciousness, her head pounding. Her eyes opened and she squinted through the dark room.

“Hello?” She said weakly.

But there was no response. The fox shifted, and realized she was lying down on something soft.

Carmelita tried to get up, but it suddenly dawned on her that she couldn’t move her arms. The vixen sat up and struggled within her restraints, her brain snapping fully awake. 

“Hey! What’s going on?!”

She looked around in the darkness, and spotted a sliver of light coming from one of the walls. She got up and stumbled over to the light, and upon closer inspection she noted that it was a small window.

Carmelita peered through it, and outside there was nothing but a white hallway and a door parallel to herself. 

She took a step back and looked down at herself and-

Her heart skipped a beat.

She was wearing a straight jacket.

Everything abruptly came back to the fox all at once. She had been in India, and Neyla had convinced the Contessa that Carmelita Fox was in with the Cooper Gang. The Contessa had then ordered her guards to arrest the Inspector, and she had marched for miles in the jungle shackled to Cooper and his friend. After finally reaching civilization, Carmelita had been shipped all the way to the Contessa’s prison with the two criminals. The last thing she remembered was a sharp pain in her neck and the raccoon screaming out to her…

How long had she been here?

No. No, no, no. There had to be some mistake. She was  _innocent_. The dance in India had been a set up! Carmelita was an honest cop!

So why was she wearing a straight jacket?

She wasn’t  _crazy_.

What had the Contessa done? This was  _nothing_ like how the procedure was supposed to go. Where was her lawyer? What about her rights?

Carmelita began to panic. She was alone, framed, and apparently locked away in some sort of mental institution.

The vixen slammed herself against the padded walls.

“Hey! Is anyone there! Let me out!”

Silence.

“I’m innocent,” she screamed. “There’s been a mistake! I’M INNOCENT!”

Suddenly, she heard the distant opening and closing of a door. Three pairs of footsteps made their way towards her cell. The door opened, and Carmelita eyes strained against the sharp white light filling the room.

Three figures approached the vixen. Two vulture guards and a small female bat. Then the bat spoke.

“Ah, so you’re awake. Good, it’s time to take your medicine.”

 _Medicine_?

One of the vultures then produced two cups. The first one had two red and white pills inside it, and the second was filled with water.

“No,” Carmelita protested. “Listen to me, there’s been some mistake. I’m not supposed to be here-”

The woman frowned. “Yes you are. Now please take your medicine.”

“Are you even listening? I’m Inspector Fox, I need to see the Contessa!”

“Are you refusing to cooperate?”

The fox began to get angry. “Listen lady, I don’t know what’s going on but I need to speak with the Contessa! I’m innocent! I-”

The bat snapped her fingers and the second guard slammed his crossbow into Carmelita’s face. She staggered backwards and tasted copper in her mouth.

“Shut up and take your pills.”

Enraged, the vixen screeched and bit down on the wing of the vulture that hit her. The guard cried out and tried to shake her off, but Carmelita maintained her hold. The first guard dropped the cups and rushed to the second guard’s aid, pulling her away from the vulture and pinned her against the wall.

The bat huffed in annoyance. “Take her to the therapy room. Maybe we can shock some sense into her.”

The two vultures exchanged wicked grins, and grabbed the fox by her hair. Carmelita screamed in fury, and they quickly dragged her out of her padded cell down the hall.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Carmelita was slammed against something hard and the two vultures held her down as they removed her straight jacket and strapped her to a table. A third vulture entered the room and powered on a large, electrical device. The machine hummed to life and the two vultures began to hook up a strange device to the fox’s temples.

“What are you doing?”

The first vulture smiled menacingly. “It’s time for therapy.”

Before she could protest, the second vulture forced her mouth open and forced a plastic guard in her mouth.

The two vultures then held her down and the third turned to them.

“Ready?”

“The first vulture cackled. “Set it to ‘high’.”

The guard flicked a switch, and Carmelita screamed as electricity flooded through her body. She convulsed violently, her limbs trembling from the power surge.

The vulture shut off the machine and checked in on his comrades. The two guards turned to the third, unsatisfied. 

“Again,” they ordered.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Carmelita was thrown back into her cell, and the door slammed shut behind her.

She coughed violently, and crumpled to the padded floor. Her body was sore and covered in welts. Tears silently began to stream down her face from the pain.

What had she done to deserve this?

How long was she going to be here?

Was Cooper going through the same ordeal?

The third question makes the vixen run cold. Is this what happened to the Contessa’s prisoners? Did Interpol even  _know_?

Probably not.

And Carmelita was left alone to weep silently in the dark.

 

 


	9. "I'm wise because I've been foolish, I'm strong because I've been weak..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ms. Decibel reforming for good and learning from her past mistakes

 

“Alright children, I believe that’s enough for today. We will continue with our scales tomorrow.”

“Yes, Ms. Decibel.”

The bell rang, dismissing the students from their music class. The children packed their instruments into their cases, chattering with one another as they trickled out of the classroom.

Ms. Decibel sighed happily. It had been 3 years since she had been released from prison and found her passion as a music teacher. She had sought therapy for her anger issues, and had even found herself a new relationship with one of the other teachers.

As if on cue, there was a knock on her door. The elephant turned to find Mr. Stripes, a handsome zebra, leaning against the doorway.

“Hello there beautiful.”

Decibel felt herself blush, and she walked over to her lover, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Hello sweetie. How was your day?”

“Rough,” the man responded. “I caught two of my students cheating on their history exam today. Which means I have to call their parents later. That, and I had to meet with the other history teachers to discuss the annual budget cuts to the program. So all in all, not a fun day.”

“Well, maybe I can turn it around,” the woman smirked devilishly and ran a finger down the zebra’s shirt. “How about you come over tonight for dinner and wine?”

Mr. Stripes grinned. “I’d love to. How does 7 sound?”

“It sounds lovely darling.”

He kissed her, full of passion and affection. The bell rang a second time, announcing the beginning of the next period.

“Guess that’s my cue,” the zebra sighed. He reluctantly pulled away from Decibel.

“I’ll see you tonight, dear,” Decibel replied longingly. “And make sure you bring me some new roses, the old ones are wilting.”

“Anything for you love.”

The striped mammal turned around and walked down the hallway back to his office. Decibel giggled, and shut the door to her now-empty classroom.

She walked over to her desk and sat down. If she wanted to spend tonight with her boyfriend she would need to get all this paperwork out of the way.

The elephant looked out the windows of the classroom. So much had changed ever since she had been arrested for the Le Paradox incident. When she had been in prison, there had been days where she wouldn’t eat or sleep, she had truly thought her life was over.

Then a prison guard had recommended to her to take charge of the facility musical program, since it was in danger of being cut completely. She had obliged, but only because she was one of the few members of the penitentiary that had a solid musical background. But after instructing a few classes, Decibel realized how much she loved music more than anything. It was in that moment that she swore to herself that when she was released, she would turn over a new leaf and start her career in teaching music.

And so she did. After requesting a meeting with Inspector Fox, she had profusely apologized to her for all the damage she had caused back in Ancient Arabia. Even though the Inspector didn’t believe her at first, Decibel had begged for a second chance. After agreeing hesitantly, the elephant made sure that she was on her best behavior and kept her temper was in check. In doing so, she had reduced her sentence and even managed to get an early parole.

Ms. Decibel remembered a lyric from a song she had heard on the radio a long time ago.

_I’m wise because I’ve been foolish, I’m strong because I’ve been weak…_

Looking back now at her youth, the woman noted how thoughtless it was to take up a life of crime simply because it was convenient. She had been tricked into being Le Paradox’s lieutenant because she had thought that he had actually cared for her, when in reality he was just using her for his own gain. The entire ordeal could have been avoided if she had just simply accepted that she was not good at playing music.

 _But that was then_ , she thought to herself.  _And this is now. I cannot take back what I did, but I can learn from it._

Decibel shook he head, banishing the stray thoughts from her mind. She shifted her focus on the paperwork on her desk.

After all, she had a date tonight.


	10. "As an apology"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Le Paradox realizes in prison he liked Decibel more than he thought and tries to apologize to her, but she isn't having any of it. The damage has already been done and his realization comes far too late.

 

The prison guard buzzed the door open, and Ms. Decibel walked into the small room. The walls were gray with only one small Plexiglas window facing the east side. In the middle of the room there was a metal table, and on the opposite side of it sat a middle-aged skunk in an orange prison jumpsuit. His eyes met the elephant woman’s, and he smile sadly.

“Five minutes,” the guard said gruffly. Then he closed the door.

Ms. Decibel took the seat parallel to the skunk and frowned. She cleared her throat and spoke.

“Well, you’d better have a good reason for asking me to come.”

“I do ma Cherie,” he responded.

“Don’t call me that,” Decibel snapped.

Cyrille Le Paradox mumbled apologetically. He looked down at his handcuffed wrists and paused.

“I wanted to apologize.”

The woman scoffed. “Apologize?  _Now_? Cyrille you cannot be serious.”

“I am,” he claimed. The skunk looked back up at the tall elephant. “Prison changes a man, and I’ve done a lot of thinking in solitary.”

Decibel remained skeptical, but Paradox continued.

“What I did was…wrong. My hatred for the Coopers and what happened to my father severely blinded my judgement. All I wanted was to be a better thief than Cooper, but in the end it cost me everything. It cost me you…”

“Me?! How dare you, I thought I was just a pawn to you?!”

“I was wrong about that too, and I apologize for what I said. Out of all the lieutenants, you were the one who cared about me the most. You were the one who supported me the most, and I took for it granted.”

He sighed, and covered his face with his hand.

“I understand if you won’t forgive me, I have no excuse for what I said and did. But I want you to know that I’m sorry, it’s important to me that you know that. I may never get out of this place, so I’d like you to know that despite everything that I’ve done, I cared about you too.”

The woman looked at him, dumbfounded. Then all of a sudden she smacked him with her trunk,  _hard_.

Cyrille toppled over backwards and hit the hard floor. He did not get angry however, he just looked back at her in shock and reverence.

The woman abruptly stood up, her breathing coming in rapid bursts.

“You horrible little man! The prison warden calls me in the middle of the night to let me know that you beg for a meeting with me, so I come and this is all that you have to say?! Sorry?! You insult my passion, you insult my appearance, and you leave me stranded in the middle of Ancient Arabia, and you have the nerve to simply apologize?!?”

Le Paradox tried to protest, but Decibel cut him off.

“You’re absolutely right: what you did was unforgivable. And yet you come to me and you dare say to me that you still care about me?! What kind of man are you?! You’re pathetic, weak, and still as idiotic as ever! I hope you  **never** get out of here, because if you did, I would gladly go back to prison for killing you myself!”

He sputtered. “What do you want me to say?”

“ **Nothing**. You made yourself perfectly clear all those years ago: ‘that I stink worse than you!’ I wasted so much of my life in prison because of you! For your information: I have a new life now. I’m done being a criminal. I’m happily teaching children in school about the joys of music, and as a matter a fact I’m engaged to a zebra 10 times the man that you are!! So if you think for one moment I’m going to throw that all away simply because you  _apologized_ , you are severely mistaken!!”

The skunk’s eyes sunk in despair. “You’re..engaged?”

The elephant’s trunk flared, and she turned her back to him.

“Guard! I’m finished!”

There was a sharp buzz and the prison guard opened the door, Decibel marched towards the exit.

“Goodbye Cyrille. Don’t ever try to contact me again.”

Le Paradox quickly got up and ran after her. “Wait!”

She stopped outside the door, and he called out to her.

“I love you.”

Ms. Decibel stopped for a second, but said nothing. Then she continued to walk away, not even turning around to look at him one last time.

The guard buzzed the door shut, leaving Cyrille Le Paradox alone with his misery in the cold, unforgiving room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is probably my least favorite ficlet so far, but nevertheless I cannot deny a prompt)


	11. "No. Regrets."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of "It was a joke, baby. I swear."

 

Neyla growled in annoyance at the handcuffs restraining her to the hospital bed. She moved her head to take a better look at the TV in the corner, and hissed in pain. 

After Carmelita had nearly beaten her to the death when Arpeggio escaped in the Clockwerk body, the rest of Cooper’s gang appeared and properly subdued the traitorous tigress with a sleep dart to the neck. However, when Neyla had regained consciousness, she found herself in a hospital back in Paris.

The Interpol agents assigned to keep watch over her were very careful to not initiate any type of conversation. This was probably because Inspector Fox had ordered anyone that came into contact with the former Constable/Captain to promptly ignore anything that came out of her mouth. It was only through the news outlet on the TV that Neyla had learned of Arpeggio’s defeat and Carmelita’s reinstatement into Interpol.

Neyla had also learned through whispers outside the hall that apparently Cooper’s friend Bentley was in the same hospital as she was. She didn’t know why, but the idea that the one Cooper Gang member who had slipped from her grasp back in India was critically injured filled her with a sick sense of triumph.

But even that couldn’t overshadow the bitter sting of defeat that Neyla felt after the whole Klaww Gang incident. She had been  _so_ close to being the one who would pilot the infamous machine and gain unlimited power. But she had gotten sloppy in her lust for the robotic owl, and Arpeggio had been one step ahead of her. If only she had disposed of him sooner-

Suddenly, the knob of the door to the right of her bed turned, and it opened revealing Carmelita Fox herself. She entered the small hospital room, promptly shutting and locking the door behind her.

Neyla sneered. “Hello Ironsides. Come here to finish the job?”

Carmelita frowned, showing no signs of approval to the tigress’s greeting. 

“Neyla Sheranee. I am here to inform you that when you are released from this hospital, you will be immediately transferred to La Sante prison. Once there, you will held in solitary confinement until your court date.”

“Oh goody, I hope it’s nice and cozy.”

Carmelita disregarded her remark and continued. “You are charged with colluding with the Klaww Gang, the Cooper Gang, framing an Inspector of Interpol, and overall high treason to France and probably the rest of the world. You are pathological and psychological liar, and you have abused and taken advantage of your position as a member of Interpol. Have you have anything to say in your defense?”

Neyla grinned menacingly, her sharp teeth glinting in the hospital light.

“No. Regrets.”

Carmelita narrowed her eyes. “Is that all?”

“That, and would it kill the hospital to give me extra pudding during dinner time? Tell them I like chocolate.”

 The Inspector huffed in annoyance. “I see that you’ve decided to not take this seriously. That being said, I hope you enjoy the rest of you life in prison.”

Carmelita turned and walked towards the door.

“Why didn’t you kill me, back on the blimp?”

The vixen stopped. She spoke but didn’t turn around to face the tigress.

“Because I’m better than you.”

Neyla laughed. “Better? It sounds like you only didn’t because Sly stopped you.”

“Maybe.”

She turned around.

“Or maybe because I’d rather see you rot.”

Now Neyla was the one frowning. “Then you’re a fool. What makes you think I won’t escape?”

Carmelita paused for a second, lost in thought. Then, much to Neyla’s shock, she smiled

“Personally, I don’t. But if you did…”

She walked back over to her.

“…I guess then I would just have to hunt you down. And believe me, after all the shit you put me through the past year, I think I would enjoy having you go through the same.”

Something in Neyla went cold.

“So I think it would be wise for you to just stay in jail, where you belong.”

She turned around and made her way to the door.

“I hope you like solitary. Hopefully it will give you a lot of time to think.”

Carmelita opened the door and stepped out. Neyla, in desperation for the last word, called out to her.

“This isn’t over!”

“Look at the facts,” she called back. “I’m pretty sure that it is.”

And she closed the door, her laughter echoing down the hallway, leaving Neyla alone.


	12. "I remember that night, you were wrapped up in my coat"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate ending to "Rumble Down Under."

 

_Carmelita struggled desperately in the mechanical owl’s talons, but it was no use. She looked up at the monster, and saw that it had Neyla’s face._

_“Goodbye Ironsides”  
_

_And the abomination dropped her in the bubbling magma below._

_She fell, down, down, down. Until she collided with the red lava and screamed. A horrible, blood-curdling scream._

“‘Lita?”

Carmelita snapped awake, and came face to face with Sly Cooper himself.

“Cooper? What,” she sat up and looked around. She was in the middle of the Australian desert. “What happened? What’s going on?”

“You were moaning in your sleep,” he replied. “Do you remember what happened yesterday?”

The vixen rubbed her eyes, and suddenly it all came back to her. She was approaching the miner’s camp when there had been a streak of yellow and something had hit her on the face. Then everything had gone black.

“I think,” she mumbled warily. “Someone…someone put a mask on me?”

“Close enough,” the raccoon shrugged. “Do you want to hear about what you missed?”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.”

The vixen drew her knees up to her chest and shivered. To her left she saw Cooper’s friends, along with an elderly koala she didn’t recognize, curled up in sleeping bags next to a fire. 

“Where’s my shock pistol?”

The raccoon’s breathing hitched. “You want to arrest us already? You  _just_ woke up.”

“Seriously Ringtail,” she narrowed her eyes. “Where did you put it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have it, you must have dropped it when you were on your rampage…”

“ _Rampage_?”

“It’s a long story. Listen, how about we just call a truce for now? We’ve both been through a lot the past day, and you’re in no shape to arrest anybody right now. As soon as the morning comes, you and my gang and I go our separate ways, and we’ll all go back to Paris to return to our classic cat and mouse game?”

Carmelita sighed. Cooper had a point; she was unarmed and outnumbered, plus her whole body felt like it had been run through a meat grinder.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “But for your information you and your gang are running out of free passes. The next time I catch you that’s  _it_.”

Sly smiled. “Whatever you say.”

A gust of wind swept by, and the vixen shivered again and drew the blankets around herself. In response, the thief took off his coat and gave it to the fox.

Carmelita looked at him skeptically, then back at the coat Sly was offering.

“I don’t bite,” the raccoon insisted. “Take it, you’re freezing.”

Slowly, she accepted his coat. She slipped it on, taking note of the faint musky smell coming from the garb.

“Thank you.”

Sly’s smile grew larger. “Anything for you.”

“Oh for god’s sake, when will you  _not_ flirt?”

The master thief laughed. “I can’t help it, there’s just something about you…”

“Oh shut up,” Carmelita huffed.

He chuckled, then he laid back on the rough ground. He placed his hands on the back of his head and looked up at the open night sky.

“So what were you saying in your sleep?”

The Inspector cocked her head. “I beg your pardon?”

He turned to look at her. “You talk in your sleep. Did you know that?”

“I did not.”

“Huh,” Sly responded. “Well, it was mostly in Spanish, so I didn’t understand it anyway.”

“You don’t speak Spanish?”

He blinked. “Should I?”

“So let me get this straight,” Carmelita stated. “You, Sly Cooper, world famous master thief, who travels all over the world to different countries with different languages and steals priceless artifacts; cannot speak Spanish?”

The raccoon grimaced. “Well, when you put it like that…I mean…Bentley is the one who…”

The fox stared at him, and then suddenly laughed, but quickly muffled it by clasping her hand over her mouth.

“Unbelievable,” she hissed between giggles. 

Sly frowned, and looked away. “Jeez, no need to rub it in.”

The vixen rubbed here eyes. “I was just teasing Ringtail. If it makes you feel better, my French isn’t perfect.”

“And yet you live in Paris.”

“So do you!”

He turned to face her, and a smile crept its way back on his face.

The two mammals lay by the fire in silence, Sly keeping a respectable distance between himself and Carmelita in order not make her uncomfortable.

Then Carmelita speaks.

“I was having a bad dream.”

The raccoon raised an eyebrow. “About?”

“It’s stupid, really…”

He sits up. “Try me.”

The vixen pauses, then continues.

“Remember the volcano in Russia?”

Sly nods.

“Well, I sometimes get nightmares about Clockwerk and Neyla at the volcano. And…and sometimes I fall into the lava, and I feel it melt my skin and it  _hurts_.”

“Well, to be fair, that was a pretty scary situation. So it’s normal to have nightmares about it.”

“I know but  _still_. It was a long time ago, I thought I would be over it by now…”

Sly says nothing, his eyes deep in thought. Then he looks into Carmelita’s eyes.

“Carmelita,” he says. “I don’t think that’s something you can just simply ‘get over.’ It was a pretty intense experience for both of us, so of course you’re going to have nightmares about it. But now it’s over, and nightmares are just nightmares. Clockwerk and Neyla are gone, they can’t hurt anyone else anymore.”

The vixen blinks. “You get nightmares about it to?”

“Of course. But I tell myself what I told you: they can’t hurt me anymore. They’re gone. The nightmares will sometimes come back, yes, but in the end they’re just nightmares. That’s why we talk about them, because when we do, then they seem less real.”

Carmelita looks away. “I guess.”

Sly lays back down. “Just think about what I said, okay?”

The vixen says nothing and lays down on her blankets, curling herself into a ball, pulling the coat around herself. Her eyelids begin to feel heavy, and it’s not long before she falls asleep once more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Carmelita woke up with a start and looked around. It was morning and Sly and his gang were gone, leaving a burnt out campfire in their wake. 

The fox sat up and realized that she was still wearing Sly’s coat. Next to her, there was her yellow and red camera with a note on it.

_‘Evidence.’ Develop film immediately!  
_

She sighed, and picked herself up off the ground of the Outback. Then she fumbled for her radio and called for backup.

_How am I going to explain this to Barkley?_


	13. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmelita meeting Murray and Bentley after Sly’s unfortunate passing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: SUPER FUCKING SAD

 

Something was wrong.

First it had been one month since Sly Cooper’s last heist. Then it became two, then three.

Inspector Carmelita Fox paced in her office for days on end, irritated from the lack of leads from the Cooper case. This  _wasn’t_ like him, usually by now he would leave some sort of calling card in her office to get a rise out of her.

But then came the “incidents.”

It started with small things: items being moved around in her office or apartment and temperature fluctuations. Sometimes when Carmelita was alone she felt something touch her, but when she turned there was nothing.

However, everything changed after one particular day, a certain parole officer had walked past her and pinched her behind. But before she could react, some invisible force had slammed the lecherous officer across the hallway and into a wall, causing several injuries.

Barkley had insisted Carmelita take some time off so she could “cool down,” even though she argued that she wasn’t the one who had hurt the officer in the first place.

And now, after six months of radio silence, the vixen laid in bed, pondering on the strange occurrences surrounding her.

She was half-asleep when suddenly the temperature began to drop and the fur on the back of her neck rose from the chill. The fox snapped fully awake, and sat up in her bed.

She wasn’t alone.

Carmelita called out into the darkness. “Who’s there?”

She was met with silence, but the Inspector still felt uneasy. Slowly, she climbed out of her bed and opened the drawer to her nightstand, pulling out her shock pistol.

She crept around in her room and felt a slight draft ruffle her fur. After several seconds, the vixen deduced that the source of the breeze was coming from the living room.

Carmelita rushed to the room and flicked on the light, pointing her pistol towards…

Nothing?

The fox scanned the living room, void of any living person but herself. Then she found the source of the chill, an open window on the opposite wall.

Sighing, the vixen crossed the room and promptly slammed the window shut, locking it. She must have forgotten about it earlier that day. She turned around to go back to bed and-

Carmelita screamed.

Inches away from her was Sly Cooper himself.

She stumbled backwards against the window and dropped her pistol, but that didn’t seem to faze the raccoon. Upon closer inspection she noted that his cap was shielding his eyes completely.

“ _Cooper_ ,” the fox hissed. “What are you-”

The words barely left her mouth when Sly removed his cap, and Carmelita screamed a second time.

His eyes…

They were  _gone_.

He looked at her, devoid of sight, and spoke; his voice sounding like the wind.

_‘Lita.  
_

And as soon as he appeared, she blinked, and he was gone.

The vixen sunk to the floor in disbelief. Was she dreaming? She  _had_ to be. There was no other explanation. 

After a few minutes of her sitting on the floor breathing harshly, Carmelita gathered herself and marched back to bed.

_Maybe I need a vacation._

 

* * *

 

Things got worse.

One day, when she stepped out of the shower, she saw the Cooper insignia drawn harshly on her mirror.

Another day, while she was cleaning her apartment, she went in her room to find that her bed was already made, despite her not touching it.

And one the third day, which was the real kicker, she had fallen asleep on the couch and woke up in her bed.

Carmelita shrieked in fury and frustration. What was Cooper playing at?! Was he  _trying_ to drive her insane?? 

Had he drugged her? Was her whole apartment rigged with tricks and traps?

It was on the fifth day of Cooper’s mysterious antics that Carmelita was seriously considering calling Interpol for help, when she had received a mysterious letter in the mail.

She had opened the envelop with no return address to find a note and one of Cooper’s calling cards. On the note simply was:

_Bois de Boulogne._

_Look for bench with blue balloon._

_Midnight._

_Come alone._

Her first instinct was to call backup, but what could she say? That she was experiencing almost paranormal-like events that were somehow related to the Cooper case? That she had seen him apparate out of thin air? They would definitely send her for a psych evaluation.

Well, if she wanted answers, it looked like she would have to play along with Cooper’s ghastly game.

 

* * *

 

Carmelita’s watch read  _23:50_  as she quickly walked around the moonlit park, searching for the bench with a blue balloon.

Then she spotted it, right next to the lake and a streetlamp. The vixen took a deep breath, strode over to the bench and took a seat, and waited.

It was exactly at  _24:00_ when she spotted two figures in trench coats and hats approach her from behind some trees. The first figure much shorter than the second, hulking one.

Carmelita thumbed her pistol in anticipation. Her instincts screamed that this was a trap, but what choice did she have? If she wanted to find out what was going on, she was at the Cooper Gang’s mercy.

The two figures sat down next to her, the smaller one closer. Then he spoke, his voice nasally.

“Did you come alone?”

Carmelita huffed in annoyance. “Of course I did, now what does Cooper want?”

The small figure seemed taken aback, his glasses glinting in the lamplight. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean,” she stated angrily. “Is that for the past week, Cooper has made my life  _Hell_. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but he’s somehow gotten in my apartment and office, moved things around, and even managed to disappear right in front of me when I spotted him. So you better start explaining right now before I call backup and have you two arrested!”

The two figures exchanged looks, bewildered by the fox’s outburst. Then the small figure spoke again.

“You’ve been experiencing the same thing?”

Carmelita’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean ‘the same thing’? Aren’t you his little gang? Where is Cooper anyway, I thought he wanted to see me?”

The small figure looked down in silence. The large figure looked away.

“He’s gone.”

The vixen flicked her ear. “Gone?? Well, where is he?”

The small figure shuddered abruptly, and he responded, his voice choked up.

“He’s…dead”

Time seemed to stop.

Carmelita first blinked, then cocked her head in disbelief.

_No._

_It couldn’t be possible._

“What did you say?”

The small figure looked up at her and took off his glasses. When he removed them there was tears streaming down his face.

“He died. He’s been dead for 3 months. That’s-that’s why there are no more heists.”

The world seemed to fall away from Carmelita as the words registered in her brain.

Cooper was dead.

Sly Cooper was gone forever.

And then she suddenly felt it.

Grief.

“No,” she breathed. “I-I don’t believe you.”

Carmelita stood up, her throat beginning to close.

“This is a joke. This a sick joke. And I’m not. having. it!”

She turned away from the two figures in trench coats and stomped away. But she had only taken three steps until she felt a sharp prick in her neck.

She reached towards the back of her neck and pulled out a small dart.

Carmelita blinked. Then something clicked in her brain.

_Sleep dart._

And that was the last thing she thought before she collapsed onto the cold ground.

 

* * *

 

Carmelita slowly came back to consciousness, but when she did she realized that she couldn’t move her arms.

She struggled profusely, but it was no use. It steadily dawned on her that she was handcuffed, with  _her_ own handcuffs.

The restrained vixen sat up and looked around. She was in a dark room with one overhead light. In the middle was a wooden table with some chairs surrounding it.

Suddenly, it all came back to her. She was at the park when the two figures in trench coats had told her that Sly Cooper was dead. She had tried to walk away, but they must have drugged her.

But why?

If Sly Cooper really was dead, what did they need her for?

Then it hit her.

_You’ve been experiencing the same thing?_

His gang was also going through the same paranormal activity.

If Sly Cooper was dead, then he was haunting Carmelita Fox, simple as that.

It explained the moving items, the temperature drops, and the apparation.

Tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes.

She was being haunted, and Sly Cooper really was dead.

Years of bottled up emotions finally burst from her system, and she sobbed silently. He was gone, and she was still here.

Abruptly, the door opened and a large pink hippo stepped into the light. He looked at Carmelita weeping silently and he froze.

“Bentley, she’s awake!”

The second figure, a turtle, rushed into the room. The hippo then cautiously approached the handcuffed fox in the corner.

“Why are you crying?”

“Does it matter?” The fox asked, her voice hoarse.

He thought for a moment, then it dawned on him.

“It’s okay,” he said sadly. “I miss him too.”

The hippo’s eyes began to water, but he wiped them away.

“He loved you, y’know,” he murmured softly.

Carmelita looked at him, eyes bloodshot.

The hippo knelt down at her level. “I’m going to uncuff you now, promise me you won’t run away or shoot us?”

The fox hiccuped, then nodded slowly.

Gently, the large mammal flipped her over and unlocked the handcuffs. Carmelita retracted her wrists, rubbing them slightly, then stood up and nodded in thanks.

Then the turtle spoke.

“Do you know who we are?”

“Yes,” the Inspector croaked. “If I remember, you’re his gang right? Bentley and Murray?”

They both nodded.

“So why did you knock me out?”

Bentley looked down in shame. “I apologize, I didn’t want you to leave before, so I acted out on reflex.”

Carmelita wiped her eyes. “So, when you said you were experiencing the same thing, did you mean that too?”

“Yeah,” Murray responded. “We’re also being haunted by Sly, and we don’t know why…”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, then Bentley spoke.

“Which is why we have this.”

He gestured to the table, and on it was a board covered in numbers and letters.

Something in Carmelita went cold. Once upon a time as a child she had been warned of the spirit board.

“You…can’t be serious?”

“Well, at first I was skeptical of it too,” the turtle replied. “But after several sleepless nights Murray and I decided to give it a try. I mean, it’s not like we have anything left to lose.”

“So why do you need me?”

Murray and Bentley looked at each other. Then Murray spoke softly.

“We thought you should be here, because you had a right to know.”

Carmelita bit her lip. So that was why. They had written to her because they were being thoughtful, because she was unaware of Sly’s demise.

“Well,” she mumbled. “If Sly really is…and we’re all being haunted…then I guess we have no choice.”

She meekly sat in one of the wooden chairs, and Bentley and Murray followed suit.

“So, how do we do this?”

Bentley cleared his throat. “Everybody place their hands on the planchette.”

Reluctantly, Murray and Carmelita obeyed. Bentley then offered his hand on the wooden piece.

After a few seconds of silence, Bentley spoke again.

“If there are any spirits with us speak freely. Sly, are you among us?”

A pause, then the planchette moved to YES.

Carmelita’s breath hitched, and Bentley and Murray froze.

“Keep going,” the vixen hissed.

The turtle swallowed. “Sly, why are you haunting us? Are you angry?”

The planchette moved to NO.

Another pause, then Carmelita spoke.

“Then…what do you want?”

The planchette moved slowly around the letters.

I  M I S S E D  Y O U.

The vixen began to choke up. She covered her mouth with her hand and stifled a small sob.

Then it moved again.

B E N T L E Y  M U R R A Y.

Tears began to stream down all of their faces. “We’re here pal,” Bentley murmured.

The planchette moved.

I M  S O R R Y.

“We know,” Murray called out softly. “We’re sorry too.”

B R O T H E R S  F O R E V E R.

Bentley covered his face with his hand. The three of them were sobbing now.

“Sly,” Bentley choked. “You need to move on. Go to the light or whatever…”

I  K N O W.

There was a pause, then the planchette moved faster.

C A R M E L I T A.

“Yes?” She breathed weakly.

I  L O V E  Y O U.

Carmelita’s lip quivered. Tears would not stop falling down her face.

“I know.”

There was another long pause. Then it moved one last time.

GOODBYE.

Then the planchette moved no more.


	14. Origins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What exactly caused Clockwerk's grudge against the Coopers starting with Slytunkhamen all those years ago.

 

The desert moon shone high in the sky, a singular witness to the Ancient Egyptian city below.

However, all was not calm. There was shouting in the streets and the Pharaoh’s guard rushed around in confusion, trying to re-locate the hooded suspects.

Meanwhile, the suspects in question perched on a nearby rooftop, and looked down at the chaos in the streets.

“We should leave,” the first one whispered.

“If we move now, they will most certainly spot us.” The second whispered.

“We cannot just sit around and wait to be caught!”

Before he could reply, a voice boomed down from below.

“IDIOTS!”

A crocodile in rich silks and jewelry strode angrily to the center of the scene.

“HOW COULD YOU  _LOSE_ THEM?! CLOSE THE GATES OF THE CITY!! SEARCH EVERY HOUSE!! YOU  _WILL_ FIND THOSE THIEVES OR YOU WILL PAY THE PRICE IN  **BLOOD**!!”

The guards quickly scattered in fear of the rich crocodile’s threat, shouting orders to each other. The fat reptile, satisfied by the resolve, harrumphed and stomped down the street in fury.

After everyone was gone, the first figure turned to the second.

“Slytunkhamen, we must leave the city. They know who we are.”

The second figure named Slytunkhamen removed his hood, revealing his raccoon face.

“No, I cannot leave without Iza.”

“Iza?!”

The first figure ripped off his hood, revealing himself to be a furious owl.

“We have prices our heads and you do not want to leave because of some woman?!!”

“She is not just some  _woman_!” The raccoon hissed angrily. “She is the reason why we have so much gold in our pockets! Without her information, we would’ve been executed long ago!”

“She will be  _fine_ ,” the owl argued. “She is a clever woman. We do not need her to burden us.”

“If her father discovers that she was involved in our thefts, she will be killed on the spot!”

The bird puffed up his feathers in rage. “Is the gold not enough for you?! Now you must resort to  _kidnapping_ a nobleman’s daughter!”

“Please,” Slytunkhamen begged to his friend. “Just give me ten minutes then meet me by the small shrine of Ra in the corner of the city.”

The owl narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you will not just run away with the gold?”

The raccoon looked offended. “Do you not trust your own brother?”

There was a pause, then the owl sighed. 

“We will split the riches evenly, then I will meet you by the shrine.”

Slytunkhamen grinned impishly, then hugged the bird.

“Thank you my brother, you will not regret this.”

He pulled away from his feathered companion and the two thieves quickly exchanged the gold between them until it was equal. Then the raccoon sprung away from the rooftop and rushed to find his lover.

“I certainly hope so,” the owl huffed, as he spread his wings and took off into the night sky.

 

* * *

 

“You WILL marry Lord Creotep, and that is FINAL!”

The elder man then marched away from his tear-stained daughter. Sobbing, the young raccoon woman ran to her chambers and flung herself on her bed.

As she cried quietly, there was a light tapping from her window. Her ears perked up at the noise and she turned to find Slytunkhamen Cooper perched on her windowsill.

“Slytunkhamen! You came for me!”

The master thief leaped into her room and embraced the young woman. She kissed him passionately, and he reciprocated. After a few seconds, she pulled away, puzzled.

“What are you doing here?”

“There’s been a change of plans Iza. We must leave the city. My brother and I were caught robbing the Pharaoh of his gold.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Leave?”

“Yes my love, and I want you to come with me.”

Iza looked away, her eyes deep in thought. “But Slytunkhamen…”

The raccoon tilted her chin up and looked her in the eyes. “I know I cannot give you what your father has given you. But I will make you happy, even if it means I must steal the moon for you, I will do it happily.”

The young woman paused. “I have no choice then, father wishes for me to marry Lord Creotep.”

Slytunkhamen reared his head back in disgust. “That fat crocodile? Outrageous! He is not worthy of you.”

She blushed deeply, then she broke away from her lover. She crossed her chambers and opened a decorative chest in the corner.

Iza quickly grabbed several things and placed them in a small sack. Then she turned back to Slytunkhamen.

“I am ready.”

“IZA!”

The two raccoons turned to the source of the voice. Making haste, the thief grabbed his lover by the hand, and they leaped out the window.

The servants looked at the pair of raccoons in alarm, running through the courtyard and exiting the nobleman’s grounds, into the city.

The elder raccoon entered the chambers of his daughter, looked around, and screamed in fury.

On her bed was the Cooper calling card.

 

* * *

 

The cloaked owl hid in the shadows near the small shrine of Ra, his talons tapping the ground in anticipation.

Suddenly, two figures dropped from the nearest rooftop, one male and one female.

“It took you long enough,” the owl hissed furiously at the two raccoons.

But before Slytunkhamen could reply, there was a loud cry.

“SEIZE THEM!”

The three figures turned to find a small army of guards running towards them, led by Lord Creotep himself, his face red with rage.

The raccoons and the owl swiftly turned and ran in the other direction, only to find several guards blocking the other way.

They were trapped.

“Up!” The owl exclaimed.

He grabbed the two raccoons with his talons and flapped his wings with all his might, giving the three of them enough height to jump on the rooftop and sprint away.

“AFTER THEM!”

They jumped from rooftop to rooftop, trying to outrun the Pharaoh’s guard, but they were in hot pursuit of the outlaws.

The bird suddenly had an idea. He flew up several meters into the sky and dropped a jar filled with a mysterious substance on the streets below. Once it hit the ground, it exploded into flames, causing the following guards to grind to a halt.

Meanwhile, Slytunkhamen and Iza jumped down from the roof of a hut and into an open street, nearing the canal where the boat waited.

However, the thief stumbled, and dropped his share of the gold.

He hesitated, but then kept moving, abandoning his share.

His feathered brother saw this, and in a desperate attempt to reclaim their prize, the bird swooped down and snatched the sack full of riches.

Last mistake.

A guard saw the opportunity, and readied his bow. He fired an arrow towards the owl, and he tried to dodge, but he was too slow. The arrow struck the right wing of the bird, and he screeched in pain.

The owl flapped deliriously, but it was no use. He dive bombed into the streets below and crashed into a nearby cart.

The bird quickly removed himself from the wreckage, and Slytunkhamen and Iza stopped.

“Brother,” the owl called. “Help me!”

The male raccoon looked at his brother, then at Iza, then down the street which led to the canal.

The guards drew closer, their numbers increasing gradually as they began to close in on the three of them.

“Brother! Leave her behind! She will survive, we will not!”

Slytunkhamen looked at his brother one last time, his eyes filled with pain.

Then he grabbed Iza’s hand and ran to the canal.

The owl looked at the two of them running away from him in shock and disbelief.

He had chosen her over him.

His own brother.

The guards quickly surrounded the injured bird and struck him several times, knocking him out cold.

 

* * *

 

“Awaken, thief.”

Cold water splashed onto the owl’s face as he gradually regained consciousness. 

The bird looked around and saw that he was shackled to the wall, his wings and talons bound.

He was surrounded by the Pharaoh’s guard, and in front of him was the Pharaoh himself: a tall lion wearing a nemes head dress and colorful silk robes.

The royal lion grinned maliciously.

“Ah good. I was hoping you had survived. I have some questions for you, thief.”

He slowly strode over and held up a jar filled with a mysterious substance, the same type of jar that the bird had dropped into the street.

“What is this?”

The bird narrowed his eyes and spit in the Pharaoh’s face.

In response, one of the guards thrust his spear into the bird’s uninjured wing, making him cry out in pain.

The Pharaoh wiped his cheek and growled.

“I will ask you again. What. is. this?”

“It is a jar filled with an explosive substance,” the owl seethed. “Of my own design, why do you care?”

“Interesting,” the lion purred. He turned his back to the owl and snapped his fingers. Another guard thrust his spear into the owl, and the bird screeched again.

“Now,” the large cat snarled. “Why did you steal my gold?”

“Because I am a thief,” the owl said nastily. “Why do you think?”

“So if you and the other one really are thieves, why have I recovered my gold?”

The injured bird opened his beak, then shut it.

The Pharaoh snapped his fingers again, and a third guard pulled out a whip.

“I will ask you one more time: why have I recovered my gold?”

“Because…he chose her over me.”

“Hmm?”

The owl looked down in sadness. “Slytunkhamen chose Iza over me.”

There was a pause, then the lion waved his hand. The guard put the whip away.

He turned back and strode over to the owl. The Pharaoh tilted the bird’s chin up until he was face to face with the lion.

“Yes, he chose her over you. But why? What did he see in some woman?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Exactly.”

There was a prolonged silence, then the owl spoke.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Another pause, then the lion shook his head.

“No. You may have stolen from me, but you inadvertently returned my gold to me. I see no reason to kill you.”

Then the lion smiled.

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you.”

The owl swallowed.

The Pharaoh turned his back to the bird and slowly walked out of the chamber.

“Do what you will, but I want him alive.”

The guards turned to the restrained owl and grinned, their eyes filled with blood lust. 

 

* * *

 

After days of endless torture and humiliation, the owl was thrown into a prison chamber, the door sealing shut on him.

The bloody, bruised, and starved bird wobbled to his feet.

He was angry.

Not at the Pharaoh, not at the guards who tortured him, but at Slytunkhamen.

After everything they had been through, after every heist and every crime, he had abandoned him.

For a woman he had barely known for a month.

How could he? His own  _brother_?

And after days and days of being left in the dark, with nothing but scraps of food and water, he began to feel it.

Hatred.

An ugly, boiling, furious hatred began to rise from his pits of his heart.

He wouldn’t sleep, he wouldn’t eat, he would just sit in the corner of the prison and burn with absolute hatred.

After weeks in the dark, he began to hear voices. Voices telling him to break free. Voices telling him to find Iza and Slytunkhamen and destroy them.

No. That wasn’t enough.

He wanted to wait until they had had their children,  _then_ he would slaughter them, then the next generation, and the next, and the  _next_.

He would wait until the Coopers had spread their influence across the world, then he would kill them all, one by one.

He would show the world that Slytunkhamen Cooper and his family were  _nothing_.

He  _would_ get his revenge.

Even if it meant he had to wait.

He could do that just fine.

 

* * *

 

After a month in prison, the scarred owl was thrown at the floor of the Pharaoh.

“Leave us,” the lion ordered his guards.

The men shuffled out of the royal chamber, leaving the two men alone.

The bitter owl pushed himself up on the ground and faced the Pharaoh.

“I want your help.”

The tall man cocked his head. “Oh?”

“I can bring my partner to you.”

“And what do you want in return?”

“I want to work for you.”

The lion scoffed. “What could you possibly offer me?”

The owl grinned. “Remember the explosive substance you found?”

The Pharaoh’s eyes glittered with curiosity. “You can make more?”

“Even better,” the bird replied. “I can make you  _anything_.”

The Pharaoh grinned.

“Show me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might make a part 2 to this one, but I'm not really sure. Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed!


	15. Rough Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murray has a rough day
> 
> (Sly 3 alternate ending where Bentley and Penelope don't end up together)

 

Murray had a bad day.

A terrible day really.

First, he was on a vicious losing streak in the circuit.

Second, his van had been completely trashed after today’s race. And the repairs would cost thousands.

And third, his sponsor had abruptly pulled out on him after citing that ‘they were interested in other affairs.’

The large pink hippo slammed the door to the apartment that he and Bentley were currently sharing. He stomped towards his room, grunting at Bentley in acknowledgement.

But before the turtle could utter a word to him, Murray had quickly slammed the door to his room and crashed into his bed.

 _God_ , he missed Sly.

He missed his wit, his ability to make any situation into a comedy.

But he was off in ‘Loverland’ with Carmelita, doing God knows what.

The hippo growled in annoyance. Of course he had to fall in love with the Cooper Gang’s worst adversary. Why couldn’t it had been some cat-burglar instead?

Had it been that way, Sly would still be there with them, like he should be.

Murray rolled over in his bed and sighed.  _What’s done is done_ , he thought bitterly. The Cooper Gang was promptly retired, they had moved on from their lives of crime and had created domestic, boring futures for themselves.

Well, almost.

Murray enjoyed racing, but lately with his record losing streak, he was beginning to miss the old days.

He desperately wanted to punch his problems away.

Suddenly, there was a knock on his door.

“I don’t wanna talk,” he called out.

“We don’t have to,” Bentley’s muffled voice responded.

The hippo huffed, then sat up in his bed.

“Come in.”

The turtle opened the door to his messy room and cautiously wheeled himself in.

“Rough day?”

“Buddy, you have no idea…”

He paused. “What do you need?”

“All I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with.”

There was another pause.

“Do you want soda or lemonade?” Bentley asked.

 

* * *

 

The hippo and turtle cuddled together, drinks in hand, watching a movie on the couch.

“Can you pause it? Murray asked. “I have to pee.”

“Sure.”

He got up and went towards the bathroom and shut the door. A few minutes later there was a flush and the running of sink water, then Murray strode out.

He walked back to Bentley and sat on the couch, returning to their cuddling positions. But before Bentley could press “play,” the hippo spoke.

“My sponsorship got pulled today.”

The turtle looked at him aghast. “What on earth for??”

“I dunno. The agent that called me told me that they just weren’t into racing anymore and said that they would refer me to other possible sponsors if needed.”

Bentley scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. Just because you lost a couple of races doesn’t mean they should give up on you.”

Murray put his face in his hands. “That’s not all, the new damage to the van is going to cost me so much money, and I don’t really know how to pay for it Bentley.”

There was a pause, then Murray spoke again.

“I guess I could try to get a loan from-”

“Murray, you know I have money.”

The pink hippo turned to him quickly. “Absolutely not! That’s only for emergencies!!”

“Well,” Bentley replied. “What do you think this is?”

“But-”

“Murray. Did I ever tell you how I sold the rights to my latest wheelchair gadget?”

The large mammal’s head reared back. “You what?!”

“Sold the rights to some tech company in the States. Guess how much they paid me?”

“Bentley, you can’t just sell out your inventions like that! They’re your life’s work!”

“You don’t understand! I only sold the rights to  _one.”_

Murray opened his mouth, then he closed it. The turtle placed a hand on his arm.

“I’d rather share my money with you when you need it instead of you relying on some  _bank_. We’re friends aren’t we?”

The hippo nodded.

“Then don’t worry about the cost. We can handle it.”

“But Bentley-”

“Don’t even try to change my mind.”

The reptile and the large pink mammal stared at each other for a long time. Then Murray kissed Bentley on the cheek.

“God, I love you.”

The turtle smiled. “Me too.”

Then he hit “play,” and resumed the film. 


	16. A spell gone wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ficlet where a spell goes wrong and Tsao is turned into a woman.

 

“I’ve faced a lot of bad men in my time, but you sir, are the  _worst_.”

The general reared his head back in malice at the raccoon’s venomous words.

“Oh, it gets worse Cooper. Up until now, I’ve gone  _easy_ on you…but now, now you’ll sample the ancient black arts of the family Tsao!!”

The chicken screeched in fury and raised his fist, gathering as much dark energy he could. He slammed the fist on the ground, and black smoke suddenly erupted all around him.

Sly braced himself, but when the smoke cleared, Tsao was…

Wait.

A woman?

Sly blinked in surprise at the sudden transformation. Before him was General Tsao, but he was a…hen?

As the raccoon gaped at the female general, the bird called out to him.

“What are you staring at?! Come and face me!!”

But as soon as she opened her mouth, she covered it with her wing in surprise at the sudden vocal change. The hen looked down at herself, and screamed in shock.

“What??? What is this! Cooper, what have you done!!”

Sly shook his head. “This is all on you buddy. Looks like your black arts must’ve backfired.”

Then he grinned mischievously.

“Who doesn’t know up from down now?”

The hen screeched in rage. “Enough! This isn’t over! Take your foolish computer! It won’t help you! Beware the power of Tsao!”

General Tsao threw something on the ground, covering the arena with gray smoke. Then he leaped away, escaping the battle.

 

* * *

 

The hen stomped to her stronghold in anger, ignoring confused glances from her guards.

Before she opened the double doors, however, she heard someone wolf whistle.

Tsao turned around, face contorted with outrage.

“WHO DARES TO WHISTLE AT GENERAL TSAO!?”

A tiger guard cocked his head in confusion. “General? But you’re a woman! You cannot be our general!”

Seething, the hen in her over-sized armor marched up to the guard who had dared to criticize her.

“HOW DARE YOU! I  _AM_ GENERAL TSAO, WOMAN OR NOT! DO YOU NOT RECOGNIZE THE GLORIOUS FLESH AND BLOOD OF TSAO?!”

The tiger sneered. “You cannot be our general, little dove. Tsao would never resort to becoming something  _lesser_ than him. You are just a hen! You know nothing of Tsao!”

Fuming, she whipped out her shield and bashed the guard’s face. He stumbled backward and collapsed, covering his nose in pain.

Tsao turned to the guards around him. “WHO ELSE DARES TO QUESTION ME?! THE NEXT PERSON WILL PAY THEIR PRICE IN BLOOD!!”

The guards meekly looked at their boots. Satisfied, the chicken trudged back to her home and kicked the doors open.

As she slammed them shut, she could’ve sworn she heard stifled laughter from the outside.

 

* * *

 

The chicken strode to her room and banged the door shut. She then walked over to an jewel encrusted decorative chest and opened it. She sifted through several items until she found it, the ancient book of the Tsao clan.

Tsao furiously flipped through the pages until she reached the section regarding everything about black magic transformations.

“Aha! Gender disguise!”

She scanned through the ancient words. “Blah, blah, blah, used for infiltrating another enemies camp. Blah, blah, blah, wait. The effects will reverse in…48 hours?!”

Tsao screamed in rage and threw the book across her room.

Her wedding was  _ruined_.

 

 


	17. The Cost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Carmelita had been the one injured at the end of Sly 2 instead of Bentley?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: GORE

 

As the helicopter touched down to the ground, Carmelita stepped out and surveyed the chaotic scene around her.

Arpeggio’s blimp was completely in shambles, scattered all over the central part of Paris. Clock-la lay crumpled in the ground and water in front of her, the Clockwerk parts completely trashed. 

“Inspector Fox!”

Carmelita turned to find all three members of the Cooper Gang running towards her, with Sly Cooper in front. But before she could utter a word, the raccoon ran up to her and hugged her tightly.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you for everything.”

The vixen blushed deeply, and as fast as he embraced her Sly let her go.

“We did it!”

“Right on!”

“It’s an emotional moment.”

Suddenly, the hulking metal bird whirred to life, the parts beginning to jitter and click.

“Die insects, die! My hate will smash you!”

Sly turned to Clock-la in alarm.

“Watch out, that thing’s still kicking!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, lasers started to shoot out from the cyborg owl, lighting up the ground with deadly beams.

The four of them rushed for cover, jumping onto a large piece of metal.

“What do we do?!” Carmelita exclaimed.

The three of them looked at Bentley for an answer. The turtle paused, then he spoke.

“Clock-la mentioned something about a hate chip…it sounded like the source of her power!”

“If we remove it,” Sly responded. “She might stop attacking!”

“But where is it located?” The vixen asked.

“If I did my math right, and I always do my math right, it should be in her head!”

“Then let’s do a little open head surgery!” Murray declared. “I’ll pry open that beak so that Bentley can go to town with his bombs!”

“Carmelita, will you help me remove it?” Bentley asked. “I think your hands might be small enough to grab it.”

The fox thought for a moment.

“Alright,” she responded. “If it means the end of Clock-la, then I’ll do it!”

The hippo, turtle, raccoon and fox then jumped off from their hiding place and maneuvered over the lasers back to Clock-la’s frame.

Murray hoisted her beak up, and after a few seconds, the mouth of Clock-la snapped open, revealing the holographic face of Neyla.

“I hate you Cooper Gang! I will find you in your sleep and I will destroy you! You will never know a moment’s peace for the rest of your short miserable lives! The Clock-la will know revenge…I am revenge…I am the Alpha and the Omega! Clock-la!”

Bentley ignored the venomous words, and carefully placed two bombs in the inside of the metal bird’s beak. Once they exploded, the back of the mouth came undone, revealing the hate chip.

“I still have my hate chip! You will not defeat me! EVER!”

Then the hologram dissipated.

Carmelita bent down and reached inside the mouth of Clock-la and grabbed the chip.

“I’ve got it!”

The words had barely left her mouth when all hell broke lose.

The top of the beak smashed down onto Carmelita’s arm.

She screamed. A horrible, blood-curdling scream.

The three men froze, eyes wide in terror. Then Murray jumped into action.

He grabbed the the beak and attempted to pry it open.

“HELP ME!” He cried to his friends.

Snapped out of there shock, Sly and Bentley rushed to the other side and helped Murray rip the mouth open.

As soon as it was open, however, Bentley dry-heaved. He turned around and vomited profusely.

The fox’s arm…

It had been completely cut off.

The inside of the beak was coated in the vixen’s blood, revealing her disembodied limb.

Carmelita didn’t stop screaming in pain as Sly quickly snatched the chip. Murray then dragged the screaming fox away from the metal bird, and carefully picked her up, bridal style.

“ **MY ARM** ,” she wailed. “ **I CAN’T FEEL MY ARM!!** ”

“SHE’S GONNA BLOW!” Bentley howled. “EVERYBODY TAKE COVER!”

The three of them quickly dashed away from Clock-La as it exploded, fire engulfing the giant metal bird.

As it burned behind them, the thieves huddled behind a large metal structure and tried to calm the hysterical Inspector, but it was no use.

“Carmelita…I…I’m so sorry.”

She was sobbing now, her other arm clutching the bloody stump as it bled.

Tears began to stream down Sly’s face as he pulled her away from Murray and held her in his arms. This was all his fault, Carmelita’s arm was torn off and it was all his  _fault_.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She had been through  _so_ much, how could he have let this happen?

Her life was ruined beyond repair, and it was all his fault.

“’Lita, I’m sorry,” he wailed. “I’m so, so, sorry! I should’ve never used you in India!  _I love you!_ ”

But Carmelita wasn’t listening, and her sobs began to turn into deep breaths of pain. Her eyes rolled back into her skull and she passed out.

Sly screamed in horror.

He had killed her. She was dying.

“We have to stop the bleeding!” Bentley yelled. “Quick, Murray give me your scarf!”

The hippo obeyed, teary-eyed and traumatized. The three of them applied pressure to the Inspector’s open wound.

The raccoon’s breathing came in rapid bursts as he began to hyperventilate.

“I did this,” he sobbed. “She’s dying…because of me. Because of us.”

“No Sly,” Bentley argued, his voice choked up. “This is my fault, I was the one who asked Inspector Fox to remove the hate chip.”

_The hate chip._

Sly’s grief quickly turned to rage as he looked at the small piece of technology in his hand. Then he slammed it on the ground and stomped with his boot, once, twice, three times. He cried as he smashed the little chip into pieces, the chip that had cost him his family, his Carmelita.

He crumbled to the ground, hands covering his face.

Bentley and Murray gazed over to what remained of Clock-la and look on as the parts age right before their eyes, turning old and rusted.

After a few minutes of deafening silence, occasionally interrupted by Sly’s muffled sobs, a cacophony of sirens cut through the air, drawing closer.

“Sly,” Bentley called. “We have to go, it’s over.”

“No.”

Bentley and Murray exchanged glances in shock.

“But Sly-”

“I am  _not_ leaving her like this. You guys can go, but I’m staying here.”

“But you’ll go to jail!”

“I don’t care,” the raccoon turned to look at his brothers, eyes bloodshot. “I deserve it.”

“Sly,” Murray said carefully, walking over to him. “Please don’t make this difficult…”

He tightened his grip on his cane. “Don’t you dare force me to come with you. I’ve made up my mind. I’m staying.”

The sirens grow louder, and Bentley sighed in defeat.

Abruptly, Murray leaned down and hugged him.

“Goodbye Sly,” he said sadly, his voice cracking.

The raccoon reciprocated the hug, patting the large man on the back.

They part, and Sly walked over to Bentley, giving him a hug.

Bentley swallowed, holding back his tears.

“Take care buddy,” the turtle mumbled.

Then, as the final nail in the coffin, the two gang members remove their gear and leave it on the ground.

Sly looked at them shock, but said nothing.

The hippo and turtle walk away, down a lone street and turn a corner, disappearing in the shadows.

 

* * *

 

Sly knelt on the cold ground, holding an unconscious Carmelita in his arms.

He placed his cane next to him and took off his mask.

Suddenly, several police cars pulled up and surrounded him. Dozens of officers jumped out, pointing their weapons toward the lone thief.

Sly raised his hands in defeat, tears streaking down his face.

“I surrender,” he croaked. “Please help her.”

One of the officers looked down at the fox in his lap, and cried out in shock.

“It’s Inspector Fox!”

All the cops then lowered their weapons and gazed at the bloody vixen.

“What have you done Cooper?!”

“Oh my God, her arm is gone!”

“Someone call an ambulance!”

About 10 minutes later, an ambulance arrived on the scene. Medics swarmed the Inspector, carefully hoisting her into the van and closed the doors. Sly tried to follow, but an officer stopped him.

“This is none of your concern,  _criminal_.”

The officer then flipped him around and handcuffed him, despite his protests.

“OUT OF MY WAY! WHERE IS HE?!”

Chief Barkley pushed past several police officers and made his way over to the handcuffed raccoon.

“Sly Cooper,” he growled.

Sly looked at him, eyes filled with sadness.

“I surrender,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Inspector Fox was never part of my Gang, I simply used for the operation back in India. I will come quietly if you clear her name.”

The chief reared his head back in surprise. After a few seconds of silence, then he spoke.

“Very well. Inspector Fox will be given the best medical treatment available and I will see to it that she is immediately reinstated into Interpol. You, on the other hand, have a lot of explaining to do.”

He turned to the officer restraining the raccoon.

“Take him to HQ. I want him under 24 hour surveillance.”

“Yes sir.”

Then Sly Cooper was led away to a police cruiser, forced inside, and the door slammed shut.

He looked out to the ambulance carrying Carmelita driving away.

 _Will I ever see her again?_  


	18. The Cost Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmelita coming to terms after losing a limb.

 

“Inspector?”

The fox’s eyes swiftly opened and she was face to face with a concerned coyote nurse.

“The chief is here to see you.”

Carmelita sat up in her hospital bed. “Bring him in.”

The coyote walked out of her room and minutes later Chief Barkley strode in, looking passive, which came as a surprise to the vixen. Usually her stoic boss always had an attitude, especially with her.

But this time he just seemed sad.

“Carmelita,” he said softly.

“Chief,” she replied. “Since when have you called me by my first name?”

“Well, given the circumstances, I might as well address you properly.”

He pulled up a chair and sat. Upon closer inspection Carmelita could see bags under his eyes.

“I came to apologize.”

The vixen cocked her head. “What for?”

Barkley sighed. “I wasn’t there when you needed me the most. After the whole India business…I was in denial. I knew in my gut that you weren’t with Cooper, and I did nothing to stop the Contessa. Had I acted accordingly, the Contessa and maybe the entire Klaww Gang would’ve been imprisoned sooner…”

Carmelita shook her head. “Chief, it’s not your fault. I understand…”

He huffed in annoyance. “I knew you were a good cop Carmelita…and I did  _nothing_.”

The badger covered his face with his hand.

“God, I need a cigar.”

The vixen chuckled. “What happened to quitting?”

“After the week I’ve had? Out of the question.”

There was a long pause.

“What about Cooper?” Carmelita asked.

“You mean that  _rat_? He’s actually complying. He hasn’t attempted to escape yet. You’d think by now his gang would’ve swooped in and saved his hide…but no.”

Another pause, then Barkley spoke.

“He asked about you, y’know.”

Her ears perked up. “What did you say?”

“Told him exactly what I told the goddamned press: ‘She’s in critical condition, but otherwise she’ll survive.’ The nerve of him, as if he actually  _cares_.”

Carmelita looked down at her hospital bed, lost in thought.

“So I don’t mean to bring up the elephant in the room, but how is your…you know?”

The vixen bit her lip.

“Well for starters,” she gestured to her amputated limb. “It’s gone.”

The badger winced.

“Once I’m out of here, it’s straight to physical therapy for me. The doctors gave me plenty of recommendations for a prosthetic. So it’s a good thing Interpol has top notch insurance.”

Her voice cracked as she spoke, and the Chief bowed his head in shame.

“I guess the only bright side to this is that I can use the handicapped parking space in the lot now.”

The third pause was absolutely more deafening than the first two.

Barkley abruptly stood up.

“I should go.”

“Yes,” Carmelita said, a hint of passive-aggression in her voice. “I think that would be best.”

The Chief took one last long look at the vixen, then walked out, leaving her alone.

The fox sat there for what seemed like an eternity.

After everything, Cooper had stayed.

He was done.

Because it had cost Carmelita her job, her life.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she wiped them away with her remaining hand.

The Inspector had accepted not that long ago that without her good arm, the odds of her being able to hit a target with her gun were slim.

Hell, she couldn’t even write properly anymore.

She was out of a job, but Cooper had decided to stay in jail this time.

Could she even call that a victory?

 

* * *

 

One month after her talk with Barkley, Carmelita came home to find a package waiting for her on her table.

The fox froze, and quickly scanned her surroundings. After she deduced that no one was in the apartment but her, she carefully walked over to the cardboard box.

The vixen’s breath hitched.

On it was the Cooper calling card.

_Impossible_. She thought.  _He’s in jail! How could have escaped?_

Her first instinct was to call for back up, but something stopped her.

Against her better judgement, she slowly ripped off the tape and opened the box.

Inside was something covered in styrofoam and bubble wrap, along with a note.

Carmelita picked up the paper and examined it. On it in neat handwriting was:

_Inspector Fox,_

_I never apologized to you directly for what happened that night with Clock-la, so I decided to write this note instead._

_Consider the contents of this package a heartfelt apology and get well soon present. I know this is what Sly would’ve wanted me to do if he was still with us. But he made his choice, and we respect his decision._

_Thank you for everything._

_Please watch over Sly for us._

_-Bentley and Murray_

The vixen placed the note on the table, the gears of her brain actively turning.

Then she turned to what was inside of the box, and removed the wrapping around it and…

Carmelita’s jaw dropped in shock.

The fox gradually pulled out a robotic prosthetic arm.


	19. The Cost Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmelita returns to work with her new arm

 

Everyone stares of course.

I mean, how many times a day did you run into an Detective Inspector with a  _robotic arm_?

After calling in a few favors, Carmelita sought out a trusted Interpol doctor who examined the prosthetic “from a friend” to make sure it was legitimate. When he finished praising the designer of the arm for it’s ingenuity, he arranged an appointment for surgery to have the device grafted on.

One week and anesthetic later, the fox woke up in the clinic bed, with her brand new arm completely attached.

“How do you feel?” The doctor asked.

Carmelita sat up and raised her metal arm, then willed for her fingers to move.

They did.

Her eyes widened in shock, and the doctor smiled and began to clap.

“Amazing! The operation seems to have been a complete success! I must say, the engineer of this device really knew what he was doing, it’s completely linked to your nervous system and acts like a perfect substitute! Now, as for my recommendations, I would-”

But Carmelita tuned the doctor out and continued to move around the robotic arm. She didn’t feel anything, but nevertheless it worked.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

And now, one month after physical therapy and several pain medications, Carmelita walks out of the elevator into her precinct.

At first, there was silence. 

Then came the applause.

The vixen was completely caught off guard, but after an enthusiastic Chief Barkley strode up to her and claps her on the back in congratulations, she can’t help but grin.

She follows Barkley into his office, bombarded by officers asking her questions and trying to shake her other hand. When she enters the office, promising the officers to answers later, Barkley slams the door.

He leans against the office door and huffs.

“Looks like you’re the real celebrity now, eh Fox?”

She shrugs. “I guess so.”

He gestures to a chair near his desk, and Carmelita takes a seat.

Barkley walks around to his chair and sits down, eyeing the vixen’s now attached prosthetic limb.

After a long pause, Barkley speaks.

“May I see it?”

Carmelita nods, then removes her yellow jacket, revealing the metal arm. The badger’s eyes widen in awe and he swallows.

“Amazing,” he mumbles. “Technology really does blow me away sometimes.”

The fox replaces her jacket, then clear her throat.

“So what did I miss?”

Barkley drums his fingers against his desk. “Not much, we’ve had a couple of burglaries and homicides worth investigating, but other than that it’s been real quiet. I think the whole Clockwerk fiasco two months ago really shook the city up.”

Carmelita winces at the word “Clockwerk.”

Another pause, then the vixen addresses the elephant in the room.

“What about Cooper?”

Barkley sets his jaw and looks away. “Still in prison. I’m surprised he hasn’t escaped, I think he’s really had a change of heart.”

He sighs then fixes his gaze back on Carmelita.

“He keeps asking about you Fox.”

Carmelita sits up straight.

“Now I may be stubborn, but I’m not an idiot. I think Cooper feels guilty about what happened to you that night, so he’s been begging for a meeting you to try and make amends. Maybe he thinks that getting on your good side will help reduce his sentence, like the little crook that he is.”

Carmelita says nothing.

“His trial is still pending,” the badger growls. “Apparently the courts still can’t get their shit together.”

She laughs, much to her and Barkley’s surprise. “He is a world famous criminal after all, maybe they’re taking so long because they’ve never dealt with a rap sheet like his before.”

Barkley cocks an eyebrow, and Carmelita regains her composure.

He stands up.

“I’m going to go for a smoke,” he says nonchalantly. “For now, just deal with the cases I have assigned for you, then we’ll talk about the paperwork regarding Cooper and the Clockwerk parts.”

“Yes sir,” Carmelita responds.

The badger walks around his desk and opens the door.

“Welcome back Inspector Fox,” he says without turning around.

Then he closes the door, leaving Carmelita alone in the office.

The fox exhales in relief, then looks down at her prosthetic arm.

_He keeps asking about you._


	20. A twist of fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt of Sly getting paralyzed instead of Bentley during the end of Band of Thieves

When the bombs exploded, the back of Clock-La’s mouth fell open like a drawbridge, revealing the hate chip.

“I see it!”

Sly quickly sprung into action, he rushed past his brothers and crawled into the mechanical owl’s open maw.

“Sly, wait!”

But he wasn’t listening, he quickly ripped the hate chip from various gears and wires that surrounded it.

As soon as he pulled it out however, he instantly knew that he had made a horrible mistake.

The top of Clock-la’s beak smashed down on his spine.

At first, there’s the sound of a sickening  _crack_.

Then the pain hit him like a tidal wave.

And he  _screams_.

Bentley and Murray’s eyes widened in horror, and they jumped to Sly’s aid. They both slowly pry the beak of Clock-la open, and Murray tenderly pulled the raccoon into his arms.

“My-my legs,” he cried. “I-I can’t feel my legs!”

Blood began to seep from his mouth and dripped down his chin.

A sudden hissing noise grabbed their attention, and the gang members turned to the inflamed robotic beast.

“Run!”

Murray didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly scooped up Bentley using his other arm and dashed for cover, leaving the metal bird to explode into pieces.

As the three of them huddled behind a large metal structure, tears began to form in Murray’s eyes.

“Sly,” Bentley said softly. “Is-is it true? You can’t move your legs?”

The thief coughed, and tried to feel something,  _anything_ , to prove Bentley wrong.

“I think,” Sly sputtered. “It hit my spine, Bentley.”

The turtle felt his heart drop to the ground.

“Oh my God, Oh. My. God.”

“Sly,” Murray sobbed. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

The three brothers began to weep as the world burned around them.

Suddenly, they heard a distant chopping noise. As the noise grew closer, the gang could make out a helicopter gradually closing in, trying to find a safe place to land, a handful of meters away from them.

The chopper blades slowly ground to a halt, and Carmelita Fox stepped out of the aircraft, looking triumphant.

However, as soon as her gaze fell onto the huddled mass of the Cooper Gang, something inside her went cold.

She sprinted towards them.

“What happened? What’s going on?”

The vixen approached the three thieves, and upon seeing Sly in Murray’s arms with blood gushing out of his mouth, her brain went into full panic mode.

“SLY!”

Carmelita put her hands on his shoulders, gently shaking him.

“Sly, Sly! Dios, please don’t do this! Not now!”

His eyes rolled back into his skull, and he passed out.

Carmelita  _howled_.

As she sunk to her knees, Bentley placed a hand on the shoulder of the vixen, still teary-eyed.

“He’s going to live, but he needs medical attention.”

The fox turned her head to to the turtle so fast that she almost snapped her neck.

“What did you DO?!”

He winced. “Clock-la did this.”

_Clock-la._

Carmelita’s grief quickly turned to rage and she stood up and gazed at the ruins of the metal abomination. 

The damned tigress had taken everything from her. Her job, her life, and now,  _her criminal_.

Bentley spoke again, his voice hoarse.

“Sly managed to snag the hate chip before she broke his spine. It’s not much, but I believe you may find it’s contents useful.”

He handed her the chip.

Carmelita looked at the little piece of technology. Then she threw it on the ground and smashed it with her boot.

Bentley looked aghast. “What have you done?!”

But Carmelita wasn’t listening. She slammed her foot on the chip again and again and  _again_. Tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

Bentley looked back at the Parts, and gasped as he saw rust begin to form on them, the Parts aging before his eyes.

Then there was silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit too short because I didn't quite know how to approach/end it. That, and I already have The Cost, so this one's also a little redundant in my opinion.


	21. The talk of pirates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, Raleigh and LeFwee are both pirates and kind of intellectuals, so I'd like to see a meeting between those two"
> 
> Requested by Anon

 

 

 

 

 

“Unhand me you slanderous scabbards! Do ye have any idea who you’re dealing with?!”

“Yeah, yeah, we heard you.”

As the former pirate continued his tirade, the two prison guards dragged him through the barred corridors. Prisoners gawked at the small but angry restrained parrot passing by their cells.

Suddenly, the guards stopped at an empty cell. They roughly tossed the former captain into the cell, slamming the doors shut.

“Hope you enjoy prison Captain,” one of the guards remarked.

They marched away, leaving the pirate crumpled in a heap on the cold stone floor.

“Did I hear right,” a British voice abruptly called out from the darkness. “You’re a captain?”

LeFwee got up and brushed himself off, then looked around for the source of the voice.

“Argh, tis none of your concern.”

“My dear fellow,” the voice responded. “You’ll find that within these walls,  _everything_ is my concern.”

Now the parrot was annoyed. “What does it matter?! Captain or not, I do not answer the questions of yellow-bellied landlubbers! Show yourself!”

He heard a chuckle. “Very well, remove the loose stone on the wall to your left.”

LeFwee eyes traveled towards the left wall, by his cot, and spotted a brick slightly jutting out from the surface. He walked over to the stone, and jimmied it out from the stone wall.

He peered through it and saw into the adjacent cell, this time with a small shadowy figure sitting on the cot inside.

The figure showed off a toothy grin, and waved.

The bird’s eyes narrowed. “Who are ye?”

“You may call me Sir Raleigh,” the figure replied coolly. “And now that I’ve got your attention, you will answer me this: were you, by chance, a pirate?”

LeFwee cocked his head. “Was I a pirate? Ha! Only the smartest man of the Seven Seas!”

Raleigh laughed. “But of course! Anyone can tell judging by your use of the language of the 16th century swashbucklers! I must admit, I’m so relieved to find a kindred pirate spirit. After years of dealing with the common criminal, I had lost hope! But you, my friend, you  _understand_.”

The parrot scoffed. “You call yourself a pirate?”

The figure leaned forward into the light, revealing his amphibian form. “Only one of the best.” 

“Better than the smartest man of the Seven Seas?”

“My dear fellow, you keep saying that. But riddle me this: if you truly are the smartest man of the Seven Seas, how and why did you get captured? Even further, if you - and I’m just going to make an assumption - were born and raised in Blood Bath Bay: the most lawless of lands - why did you leave?”

LeFwee hissed. “I don’t need to take anymore questions from you!”

“Quite right, but if you want to gain my favor - which I assure you is very worthwhile - perhaps answering my questions will be in your best interest.”

The pirate thought for a minute and examined the situation. He was currently locked away in some prison miles away from the Caribbean he called home due to his defeat by the hands of the Cooper Gang. He had no friends or family to rely upon, and he knew nothing of his surroundings. This was an opportunity to gain information about the modern world, and if he really was the smartest man of the Seven Seas, maybe making a few friends here and there would be the smartest thing to do.

He cleared his throat. “If you wish to know, I was exiled.”

That seemed to pique the frog’s interest. He jumped off his cot and hopped his way over to the crevice.

“By whom?”

LeFwee clicked his tongue. “Blasted intruders! Thieves from the outside!”

Raleigh cocked an eyebrow. “Thieves?”

“Aye, they called themselves the Cooper Gang.”

The amphibian blinked once, then twice, processing the information.

Then he laughed. 

He laughed so hard that he doubled over and tears began to spill from his eyes. The frog collapsed on the stone floor, the cell echoing with his shrill laughter.

LeFwee squawked in outrage. “YOU SLIMY SACK OF MAGGOTS! WHAT THE HELL IS SO GODDAMN FUNNY TO YOU?!”

Raleigh wiped his eyes and regained his composure. 

“My dear man! I’m not laughing at you! The irony! You misunderstand:  _I’m in here because of them too_!

The parrot reared his head back in shock. “Beg your pardon?”

“I was in your position, many years ago. I spent my glory days in the Welsh Triangle, my Isle of Wrath I called it. I had created a storm machine that would produce weather conditions so severe that any ship foolish enough to cross my path would perish. My underlings and I would swoop in and rob the ship blind. Then one day, everything changed when the Cooper Gang showed up.”

LeFwee cocked his head, intrigued by Raleigh’s story.

“At first, I didn’t believe he was threat. But alas, I was horribly wrong! Faster than I could blink, that damned raccoon had robbed me blind and completely sabotaged my operation! If only we had taken him out when we raided the Cooper home…”

The frog looked away, bitterness in his eyes. “And now, thanks to that cursed gang and Inspector Fox, I am left here to rot for the rest of my days. I swore to myself that if I ever found a way out of here: I would extract my revenge, come hell or high water!”

Then Raleigh looked back at LeFwee. “But the odds of that happening are far from possible. I may have the brains, but unfortunately that’s not enough.”

There was a pause, then LeFwee spoke.

“Avast, we are more alike than I thought.”

A wide toothy smile found it’s way across the amphibian’s face.

“Indeed. Which is why I believe we can help each other.”

The bird cocked his eyebrow. “How so?”

“As they say, my dear fellow, two brains are better than one.”

It clicked, and a big smile found it’s way across LeFwee’s face.

“Oh dear me! I apologize my feathery friend! I never asked you your name.”

Another pause, then the parrot reached through the open hole, offering his good wing.

“LeFwee,” he replied. “Captain LeFwee”

Raleigh firmly grasped the wing with his own green hand and shook it.

“It is a pleasure Captain, I think you and I are going to work together quite nicely.”

 

 


	22. A bad prescription

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to take your medicine where Carmelita tries to escape only to get caught

 

 

Carmelita sat in the corner of the pitch black room, thinking hard.

She  _had_ to see the Contessa.

The guards she had periodically dealt with nothing more than uncooperative. No matter how many times she had insisted that she was innocent, they dismissed her. And when she got angry, they tortured her.

Carmelita hissed in frustration. What could she do? There had to be some way to reach the spideress. She needed to know about these horrible conditions!

Suddenly, there was the opening and shutting of a distant door. This time, the vixen heard two sets of footprints approaching her cell, probably back for more of her “medicine.”

It was now or never.

Then Carmelita got an idea.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The door opened to Carmelita’s padded cell, spilling bright light into the room. A vulture and this time a male wolf walked into the small room, finding the fox face down on the ground.

The two guards froze, and the first one rushed to her in a panic and flipped her over, checking her pulse.

“She’s got a heartbeat, but there’s no breathing!”

He turned to his companion. “What are you standing there for! Get help! If  _she_ finds out about this we’re dead men!!”

The vulture quickly dashed out of the room, and the wolf began to rip off Carmelita’s straight jacket.

As soon as he did that however, her eyes snapped open and she struck him the jaw. Before the guard could cry out, the vixen leaped up and round housed him right in the chest. He staggered backward, all of the air rushing out of his body and stumbled on the floor. Carmelita then hit him in the head with the heel of her foot, taking him out.

The former Inspector stood there for a few seconds in triumph, then bent over and searched the guard. In his chest pocket was a key card, and hooked to his belt was a very Gothic-looking mace. She snatched both, noting how heavy the mace was, and turned to the open door, quickly walking out.

Carmelita scanned the empty white hallway. Once she deduced that the coast was clear, she shut the door to her cell, swung the mace over her shoulder, and ran towards the door at the end of the corridor.

The fox scanned the key card and the light turned green, unlocking the door. She opened it, and sprinted through another hallway perpendicular to the previous one.

“We found her unconscious! Hurry, this way!”

Carmelita’s ears perked up at the approaching loud voices. She looked around, desperate for some cover, and her eyes fell upon the door of a broom closet.

She checked the door and found it unlocked, then swiftly slipped inside. She waited a few seconds for the voices to pass by her, then cracked the door open and peaked to make sure the coast was clear.

Once the fox was certain that the hallway was again empty, she exited the broom closet and resumed her escape.

Carmelita turned a corner, mace still in hand, and found herself at the center of 4 hallways.

She bit back a curse, the damn place was a maze! The woman stood there, trying to figure out which hallway was the exit, her gaze drifting upward and…

_Oh shit._

A security camera was sitting right above her head on the ceiling.

Carmelita made up her mind, and as soon as she rushed down the corridor west of her: the alarm siren went off.

“Fuck!” She exclaimed. She ran faster, passing several metal doors, and turned another corner, where she was face to face with two bewildered vulture guards.

Without hesitation, Carmelita swung the mace like a discus and managed to hit the first guard square in the face. He crumpled, and before the second guard could raise his crossbow she sprung up and socked him in the jaw. 

The guard staggered and took a few steps back, a wing shielding his face, but Carmelita wasn’t finished. Faster than he could blink, she snatched the fallen guard’s crossbow and fired it right at the second guard’s chest. He fell, and did not get back up again.

Satisfied, the fox examined the weapon in her hand. It was no shock pistol, but it would have to do.

Abruptly, Carmelita heard shouting coming from behind her, and continued to run down the hallway.

She made her way to two double doors and barged into a large room. After scanning it she concluded it was the cafeteria.

However, before she could make her next move, several vulture guards burst in from the doors across from her, their weapons aimed. Thinking fast, Carmelita dove for cover behind a table and tipped it on it’s side.

The bullets ricocheted off the table, and the fox fired some shots back. As luck would have it, she was the superior marksmen, and she picked off the vultures one at a time.

After a few minutes of shooting, there were only two guards left standing. Just as Carmelita thought that she had the upper hand, there was a flash of black and something sticky grabbed her crossbow and pulled it away from her. As she turned to retrieve it, she was hit with another shot of the sticky substance, pinning her against the table.

The young woman struggled to break free, but nothing seemed to work. She cried out in anger, she had been  _so_ close.

Then there was the sound of a slow clapping noise. Carmelita strained her head, and saw the Contessa slowly sauntering her way over to her, clapping.

“My, my, my,” the spideress crooned. “It seems you were a lot more destructive than I had anticipated.”

The fox spoke quickly. “Contessa, I can explain everything, just listen to me  _please_ -”

“Oh but there’s no need. You see, Neyla already explained everything  _perfectly_.”

“No!” She screamed. “She’s a liar! I’m not with Cooper I swear!”

“But I know.”

Something cold came over the vixen. “Then…why…?”

“Because, my dear, you just would’ve gotten in the way.”

It clicked.

Before Carmelita could respond, she felt a slight prick. When she looked, she saw a dart protruding out of her neck.

It took only a few seconds for the vixen to start feeling woozy. She gazed back at the Contessa, who looked unconcerned.

“Take her to the Re-Education Tower, and make sure the Eyes are correctly calibrated.”

_The Eyes._

_Clockwerk_.

_**Sly…** _

And Carmelita slipped into unconsciousness.


	23. Sleepless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmelita suffers nightmares after the events of Sly 2.

 

 

_Spiders._

_Ugly, hairy, black spiders crawling all over Carmelita. She hisses and struggles, but they continue their assault, sinking their fangs into her fur, her flesh._

_The fox yells and falls backward, frantically trying the rip them off. Her ears perk up to the sound of clicking. She looks and sees the Contessa, slowly creeping over to her, a twisted smile on her face._

_The spideress stops, hovering over of the helpless vixen. The spiders vanish, but before Carmelita can move, a clawed hand squeezes her throat._

_The Contessa leans in close, inches away from her face, and speaks. But her voice is guttural and penetrating._

_“ **Such a pity when an officer falls from the light.** ”_

_She opens her mouth, revealing dozens and dozens of razor-sharp teeth, and bites down on the fox’s neck._

_Carmelita howls in pain, and blood spills out from the wound, pooling on the floor._

_It spreads and suddenly it’s lava, swirling and bubbling below her. The Contessa is gone, replaced with large metal talons._

_She gazes upward, and sees the piercing yellow eyes of Clockwerk himself, steadily gliding above the Krak-Karov Volcano, his robotic body doused in red light._

_“Carmelita!”_

_Her head swivels towards the noise, and she sees Sly Cooper, in the mechanical owl’s other set of talons, struggling to break free._

_The vixen tries to cry out to him, but her voice is gone. Instead, she just looks at him, her eyes fearful._

_Disembodied laughter echoes around the volcano’s walls, and in a terrible, discordant voice Carmelita hears:_

_“ **YOU WILL NEVER BE RID OF ME! CLOCKWERK IS SUPERIOR!** ”_

_And with a sickening crunch, he crushes the thief within his claws._

_The raccoon makes a choked noise, and he moves no more._

_Carmelita, regaining her voice, screams in horror. Clockwerk laughs again, and drops both of them into the lava below._

_She falls, but instead of splashing into the magma, she hits a cold floor in a dark room._

_The fox tries to stand, but something abruptly slams down between her shoulder blades, pinning her to the floor._

_She moves her head, and finds Neyla, looking down at her with a sense of triumph, her boot pressing into Carmelita’s back._

_Carmelita struggles and curses, and the tigress tilts her head playfully, her smile widening._

_“What’s the matter Ironsides? Cat got you down?”_

_Neyla laughs and pulls out a sleek, black pistol. She cocks it and Carmelita hitches her breath._

_The Constable kneels down, boot firmly planted on the vixen, and juts the gun against Carmelita’s temple._

_“See you in Hell,” she whispers._

_The Inspector squeezes her eyes shut._

_BANG._

Carmelita’s eyes snap open and she gasps, her breathing coming in rapid bursts. She lifts herself up, body covered in sweat, frantically looking around her dark bedroom.

After a few minutes, the fox lowers her head and exhales slowly.

Another one.

Another nightmare from a long line of them. Even after six months since the whole Clock-la fiasco, Carmelita still couldn’t find peace.

She curses, and throws her pillow across the room in frustration. 

 _It’s over_ , she thinks bitterly,  _Clockwerk and Neyla are gone, and the Contessa is locked away for good._

So why did they always come back to haunt her?

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Carmelita pours over the files in her office, the bags under her eyes dark as charcoal. Her head is heavy and her temper is shorter than ever due to sleep deprivation.

Sighing, she runs her hands through her cobalt hair. She desperately wants to go home and lie in bed, but every time she closes her eyes the faces of Neyla and the Contessa pop into her brain.

The fox gets up and stretches, drifting her gaze toward the window. The Contessa was put away, but the damage had already been done. After hours of being exposed to the Clockwerk eyes, Carmelita was surprised she hadn’t completely lost her mind.

Yet.

_Maybe they had more of an effect on me than I thought. It would explain-_

A sudden knock on her door interrupts her train of thought. She turns to see Chief Barkley himself stroll into her office, his usual scowl on his face.

Carmelita swallows. “Chief.”

“Where is the report on those two meerkat burglars?”

 _Shit_.

The fox bites her lip. “It’s not done, I’ll get to it right now-”

“Before or after your done slacking off?”

Carmelita feels something ignite in her belly.

Barkley continues, his voice steadily rising. “You’ve been careless the last few days. Skipping paperwork, missing meetings. Did your ‘vacation’ make you forget who you are? Or have you always been this lazy?”

The vixen clenches her fists, and she grinds her teeth.

Barkley takes a step closer, his eyes filled with rage, his veins bulging.

“Perhaps it would have been better if you had simply joined the Cooper Gang if you truly wanted to waste everyone’s TIME!”

He slams his hands onto Carmelita’s desk.

“DO YOU WANT TO PISS ME OFF?! BECAUSE YOU’RE DOING AN EXCELLENT JOB! EVEN BETTER THAN WHAT WE PAY YOU FOR! NOW GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND GET BACK TO  **WORK**!”

That did it.

Carmelita quickly grabs the old badger by his suspenders, pulling him face to face, and unleashes her fury.

“YOU LISTEN TO ME YOU  _FAT CIGAR-EATING **FUCK**_! YOU THINK I WANTED TO BE ARRESTED?! YOU THINK I WANTED TO BE HUMILIATED?! YOU THINK I WANTED TO BE TORTURED AND MISTREATED  _RIGHT UNDER INTERPOL’S NOSE_?! YOU HAVE SOME FUCKING NERVE CALLING IT A ‘VACATION.’ WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I NEEDED JUSTICE?!?  **TOO BUSY SUCKING THE COCKS OF CONSTABLE BITCH AND THE SPIDER-CUNT!!?”**

Her spit flies into the bewildered badger’s face as she resumes her furious tirade.

“BECAUSE OF THEM, MY LIFE WAS RUINED!! I HAD TO REBUILD IT FROM SCRATCH, NO THANKS TO YOU! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THEY DID TO ME WHILE YOU WERE STUFFING YOURSELF WITH DONUTS?!?  **I. HAVE. NOT. SLEPT. IN. DAYS!!! _SO BACK THE FUCK OFF!!!”_**

Carmelita then violently shoved her superior onto the rugged floor.

After a few seconds, her anger blows out like a candle, and was replaced with a horrifying dread.

What had she done?! She had berated her boss, of all people!

Slowly, Barkley hoists himself up. Carmelita stands still as a statue, the fire in her eyes replaced with cold panic.

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes.

“You’re suspended, give me your gun and badge, and get out.”

Carmelita opens her mouth to speak, but Barkley raises his hand to cut her off.

“One more word and you’re fired. I mean it.”

The fox clamps her mouth shut, and her brain shifts into autopilot. She unholsters her pistol, removes her badge, and dropped them onto her desk.

Carmelita then cautiously grabs her bag and coat, and makes her away around her furious boss, walking out the door.

“Fox.”

She turns around to meet adamant Barkley’s gaze.

“If you need help, get it.”

Carmelita says nothing. She turns away, ignoring the stares from her coworkers, and marches toward the headquarter’s elevator.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It’s on the second week of her suspension when she finds out. 

Carmelita wakes up at 2 in the morning from yet  _another_ nightmare, and decides to turn on the TV and make some tea. However, when she comes back and reads the headline, she drops the mug full of the hot water and it smashes into pieces on the floor.

“COOPER GANG STRIKES AGAIN. GERMAN BILLIONAIRE’S MANSION ROBBED.”

The fox quickly runs to the phone and makes a call that is answered with a huff, but before she can say anything,  _anything_ at all, the receiver beats her to it.

“The answer is no.”

“But Chief-”

“I. Said.  **No**.”

Carmelita pinches her nose and exhales.

“Barkley, I-I’m sorry, please let me come back.”

“Did you fix it?”

The Inspector pauses. She hears a deep sigh on the other end of the line.

“Fix it. Then we’ll talk.”

And Barkley terminated the call.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It’s about 5 days, and 5 more nights worth of nightmares later that the Universe decides to send Carmelita a sign.

Or rather, a visitor.

It’s 11:00 pm and Carmelita lays in bed, unable to close her eyes due to the threat of  _them_ resurfacing from the dark crevices of her mind.

So she decides to head out to the local 24-hour convenience store.

However, as she dons her coat over her pajamas, the fur on the back of her neck stands up tall, and she freezes.

She was being watched.

As if on cue, she hears three taps coming from her balcony window.

The fox slowly, slowly turns around.

_Please don’t be who I think it is._

She faces the window producing the noise and-

_God dammit._

Sly Cooper is standing right outside on her balcony, cane in hand, hat on head.

He smiles sheepishly in greeting, but when he meets her eyes he frowns.

Carmelita is far,  _far_ too tired to fight or argue. And as much as her police intuition is screaming at her to call for backup, she just doesn’t want to deal with any of the paperwork right now.

She strides over to the balcony and swings the glass door open.

“What do you want?”

The raccoon cocks an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“What.  _The fuck._  Do you  **want**?”

“What I want,” Sly replies “Is to know what’s going on with you.”

Carmelita sighs in annoyance, and he gestures to her apartment.

“May I come in?”

“I guess,” she responds. “I can’t really to do anything to stop you.”

Sly looks at her as if her fur has suddenly turned green, but he complies. He creeps into her home and closes the glass door.

Carmelita walks over to her couch and sits, tapping her foot in annoyance. Sly pulls up a chair by a small table, his face heavy with concern.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s none of your business,” Carmelita states bluntly.

“How can I make it my business?”

“Can you steal dreams away?” She asks in a sarcastic tone, but then bites her tongue.

Sly pauses, he cocks his head to the side.

“No, but maybe I can help.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“And I think you’re an ass, so there.”

Sly chuckles. He twirls his cane in his hands and gazes at her longingly.

“When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?” 

Carmelita looks away, her tongue in her cheek.

“I also heard about your suspension, but in my opinion, that old badger had it coming.”

The fox stares at him in alarm. “How did you-”

“Bentley.”

She hisses. “Of fucking course”

“Now why must a pretty face say such ugly things?”

“Cooper,” she growls. “If you really want to get on my good side, that’s not the best approach.”

The raccoon smiles. “I’m sorry, sometimes I get a little carried away when it comes to you.”

Another pause, then Sly speaks.

“Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“If I tell you,” Carmelita says. “Will you go away sooner?”

The thief shrugs. “If that’s what you want.”

The vixen takes a deep breath.

“I can’t sleep because of what the Contessa and Neyla did to me.”

Sly’s eyes widen. “Ah”

“No matter how hard I try, the nightmares keep on coming back. I think the Clockwerk Eyes may have done more damage than I thought.”

Sly says nothing.

Carmelita’s lip begins to quiver. “I-I don’t know what to do. I’m scared Ringtail and I don’t know what to do.”

One more very long pause.

Sly stands up. “Can I show you something?”

The fox looks up at him. “I guess.”

He turns around and-

-takes off his shirt.

Carmelita abruptly stands up. “Hey, Hey! What are you doing?!”

Before she can say any more, her eyes widen at the sight of scars.

Big, long scars carved into Sly’s back.

Her heart skips a beat, and before she can say anything the raccoon speaks.

“The Contessa’s guards did this to me.”

Carmelita falters. “Why?”

“Just because,” he responds sadly. “Pretty messed up right?”

She looks away as he re-dresses himself, then he turns to face her.

“After breaking out of the Contessa’s prison, I had nightmares non-stop. So I wrote about them and talked to my gang for support. I even saw an underground therapist.”

The fox cocks her head. “Since when do criminals have therapists?”

Sly chuckles again. “You’d be surprised what they offer in the Criminal Underworld. Not all of it is crazy or awful.”

“And did they stop?”

“Eventually, yes.”

Carmelita just gapes at him, lost in thought.

“Do you have anyone who can talk to? Anyone at all?” Sly asks.

She opens her mouth, then clamps it shut. Seconds tick by, and Sly speaks again.

“Have you considered seeing a therapist or psychiatrist?”

“I don’t need a shrink,” Carmelita huffs.

“What did your boss say? ‘If you need help, get it?’“

“Oh god dammit, please don’t tell me you bugged my office  _again_.”

Sly laughs, a hearty noise that makes something in Carmelita’s gut stutter.

“Carmelita,” he says softly. “If somebody ever told you that asking for help is a sign of weakness, I will personally tell you upfront that they’re completely wrong.”

Carmelita says nothing.

He makes his way towards the balcony. “Promise me you’ll think about it okay? Because if I come back and find out you didn’t get help, I’ll steal all your socks.”

A small, small smile finds its way across the vixen’s lips.

Sly opens the balcony door and gets up on the railing.

“See you soon, ‘Lita.”

And he leaps back into the night, leaving Carmelita alone.

She forgot how long she stood there, staring at the spot where Sly was before.

Then she turns off all the lights, climbs into her bed, and thinks.

It’s not long before she falls asleep.

And when Carmelita wakes up in the late morning, without any nightmares for the first time in days…

…She begins to think that Sly Cooper, the Master Thief, may have had an excellent point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back babey!


	24. Code Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A one shot of Sly being saved by the Gang from the genetics experiment instead of Carmelita in Sly 3.

 

 

“Sly! Sly!!! Hold on Sly, just hold on!”

The monster roars in fury and swings at Bentley, but the turtle was faster. He slammed down on his console and his wheelchair suddenly sprung to life, his rockets blasting him far out of the way from the experiment’s reach.

Panic grips Bentley like a vice. What could he do? This wasn’t part of the plan. Why was it always that  _nothing_ went according to plan?!

He needed to switch gears. His brother was in life or death trouble and he needed a plan!

The turtle makes up his mind and quickly radios in his gang members.

_“All units! This is a code red! Repeat! Code red! The ball has been immobilized! Commence Operation Last Resort! Repeat! Commence Operation Last Resort!”_

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Penelope feels her blood freeze upon hearing her boyfriend’s frantic radio call. She turns to Murray, who looks at her with wide eyes.

“What do we do??” He asks frightened.

The mouse gritted her teeth. A code red meant that Sly was in fatal danger. During her short time with the gang, there had  _never_ been a call for Operation Last Resort.

It was time to get serious.

Penelope takes a deep breath.

“Murray,” she says carefully. “Remember those upgrades to the Van Bentley and I recently installed?”

“I-I thought you said they weren’t ready!”

“It doesn’t matter now! Sly needs us!”

The hippo swallows. “But I don’t-”

“ **Murray**! Pull yourself together!! Your brother is going to  _die_! Call in Dimitri and get the Van on the beach ASAP!”

He lower lip quivers, and Penelope puts a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s time to bring out ‘The Murray,’ for real this time.”

Murray squeezes his eyes shut, takes a deep breath, and puffs out his chest.

“‘The Murray’ is ready.”

“Good,” the mouse replies. Then she turns around and makes a mad dash for the lower deck of the ship.

“Where are you going?” He calls after her.

“Where do you think? I’m getting the plane!!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The Panda King and the Guru exchange looks upon listening to Bentley’s message.

“My friend,” the bear says softly. “It has been a pleasure working with you. Should I not return, please return to my daughter and tell her I love her.”

The elderly koala gives his hard look, and slowly nods.

“I must return to the Rendezvous point and retrieve my Black Dragon cache. Please be careful.”

The Guru nods again, and the panda hurries down the beach.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Dimitri bursts through the surface of the ocean and removes his headgear. He looks towards Kaine Island in the distance, the waves pushing against him.

Suddenly, a horrifying roar cuts through the air, along with the distant sound of an explosion.

“Dimitri! Dimitri come in!!”

The iguana rolls his eyes and presses his comm to his tympanum.

“What’s the beat my main man Murray?”

“We got a Code Red! Come to shore now! I need help with the Van!”

“Come on man! I just did the dance with the fishies and now you want me to dance with motors and oil?”

“What?? No! Just-JUST GET OVER NOW!!”

He recoils at the hippo’s loud bellowing.

“Ok, ok. Cool the jets! Dimitri is on his way!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The sky. The sea. The beach. The sky again.

Sly swings around like a ragdoll in the monster’s grip. The corners of his eyes going dark due to his lack of air.

He hears to distant mad cackling of Dr. M, and thinks about his gang, hoping their safe.

The raccoon’s mind wanders and he remembers his parents, his father bouncing him on his knee. He remembers sharing a pizza with his brothers, laughing. 

He remembers Carmelita, the two of them sitting in the chopper. Talking about their favorite music albums.

_God_ , he wishes he could see her one last time.

_What a shame_ , he thinks.  _What a shame_.

He closes his eyes and he listens to sound of the monster’s roar and in the distance he hears…

A plane?

_Wait_.

A  **Biplane**.

He rips his eyes open and suddenly gunfire erupts. The monster shrieks in pain and Sly sees it, the Cooper biplane, with a small periwinkle figure piloting it, swooping around the experiment.

“DROP HIM YOU FREAK!”

Screams a shrill voice from the plane’s loudspeaker. The monster swings, but misses, and the plane elegantly moves around the beast like a dancer.

Dr. M howls in fury and the creature becomes enraged, clawing at the air wildly. The biplane abruptly rises up high in the air.

“MURRAY! NOW!”

As if on cue, another eruption of gunfire cuts through the air, and Sly turns to his right.

The Van comes speeding towards the giant experiment on the beach. Sly sees Dimitri in the distance, on top on the Van with what seems like a decked-out machine gun. 

The beast roars again, and charges at the Van, but it dramatically swerves to the left. Dimitri keeps firing, the bullets piercing the monster’s body, discolored blood leaking out of the wounds.

It screeches in pain and fury, and stomps and thrashes at the Van. But the driver expertly dodges the blows, accelerating under the monster then coming back round again.

An explosion goes off, and the monster and Sly both turn behind them.

A small army of rockets rise up in the air and then dive toward the beast, hitting it square in the face.

The genetics experiment screams in pain and Sly feels himself drop from it’s clutches, onto the sand. 

It covers it’s bleeding and burnt face, stumbling backwards to the shore.

More fireworks come rising up from the ground, and combined with the nimble biplane’s gunfire, the beast cowers and cries and finally, finally collapses on the shore after so many blows.

Sly rolls over on his back, and opens his eyes. The stars above him are swirling, and his body is sore and his head is heavy.

He hears the sound of the Van’s engine coming closer to him, along with Bentley’s panicked voice.

“…….Get……..in! All units retreat….!…….Ball………recovered!….”

Sly closes his eyes, and before he falls into unconsciousness, he thinks:

_There better be something good in that Vault after all of this is over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Fun fact! I wrote this at 5 am and got it done in a few hours because who needs sleep? lol)


	25. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can I have an AU where Arpeggio survives Clock-La? I just need to see something happy Post-Sly 2 with these two, Arpeggio deserved better."
> 
> Requested by Anon

_The mechanical bird stretched its wings and reared itself up, emitting a horrible screeching sound from its beak.  
_

_Arpeggio gaped at the giant metal monster, his mind screaming at him to run but his body frozen in place.  
_

_“Please,” he whimpered. “Have mercy!”  
_

_The robotic owl cocked its head._

_“ **MACHINES HAVE NO MERCY.** ”  
_

_Then the beast opened up its jaws, lunging at the small bird._

_Arpeggio screamed in horror as the metal beak engulfed him, snapping his bones with a sickening CRUNCH._

“Peggy?”

The avian snapped awake, sweat dripping down his feathers. He was in his bed, and next to him Jean Bison was watching him, his face heavy with worry.

“Clock-la,” he squawked. “Jean, Clock-la is here!!”

“Hey, hey, calm down. Clock-la is gone, remember? She can’t hurt you anymore”

Arpeggio wildly looked around the room, his breathing beginning to slow.

 _He’s right_ , a voice from his brain assured.  _Clock-la is dead, and you are still alive._

 _Barely_ , the bird thought back bitterly. After the Clock-la incident, Arpeggio had survived and escaped in his mini-blimp. But he had been severely wounded when the tigress-owl had ripped off a good chunk of his right wing. 

Having no where else to turn, the parrot had retreated to Bison’s lumber camp, where Jean had found him and nursed him back to health. But then Interpol had reinstated Inspector Carmelita Fox, who released warrants for their arrest. So the bird and the bison quickly cut their losses and went into hiding.

Currently, the couple were living out in a cabin in the Texan wilderness under false identities. But despite everything, Arpeggio could not outrun his PTSD.

The parrot sighed and gazed softly back at his red-furred lover.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked quietly.

Arpeggio slowly shook his head. “There’s no point,” he crooned sadly. “I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done. The mind is a very complex thing, especially during the state of unconsciousness. All I can do is simply wait until the pain eventually numbs.”

“Peggy, there’s got to be another way. You’ve been havin’ nightmares for  _months.”_

He thought for a moment, and the bison spoke again.

“Maybe you should see a…uh what’s it called? A therapist?”

“Absolutely not! I cannot afford to jeopardize our future!”

Jean Bison huffed. “Then what do you want me to do? I can’t chop away dreams!”

There was a pause.

“You’re right,” the parrot said wistfully. “I’m sorry Jean, I’ll-I’ll think about it, alright?”

Jean smiled, and reached out to stroke the bird’s red and green feathers.

“I care about you a lot, you know that?”

Arpeggio leaned into the bison’s touch, humming lovingly.

“I do, Jean. I just don’t want us to end up in prison.”

“Listen Peggy, if I had to choose between getting you better and going to jail or having you suffer while we’re on the run, you’d bet your feathers I would pick the first one!”

The parrot chuckled. “I believe I can find a compromise. After all, I  _am_  a criminal mastermind.”

Jean kissed him on the head. “That’s what I love about you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Three days later, Jean Bison comes home arms filled with groceries. Arpeggio is in the backyard, tending to the small garden they had built together.

As the bison opened the fridge to put away the week’s supply of food, Arpeggio stepped inside and hopped over into the kitchen.

“Did you get the sunflower seeds?”

“Yep,” the large mammal hummed. “They’re with the cans of beans in that bag over there.”

The bird made his way over to where Bison pointed. He removed the cans and placed them in the lower cubbard. 

“So I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Arpeggio’s head perked up. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no! I just had an idea was all.”

“About?”

Jean paused, then he spoke.

“How would you feel if we started a business?”

“A business?” The parrot repeated. “What would we sell?”

“Produce.”

Arpeggio cocked his head in confusion. “I thought you favored the destruction of nature?”

“Well, I may be a lumberjack first. But I’m a business man second. And after everything, I think it’s time for a change of pace.”

The bird fell silent, and the mammal continued.

“Texas is real good for farming. And every time we go to the Farmer’s Market, business seems to be booming.”

“Are you quite sure? I mean no disrespect, but farming isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

“Peggy, I’m a big strong bison! Ain’t nothing too hard for me!”

Arpeggio smiled. “Well, we would need to get a proper farming education and some money. But I believe I can pull some strings and have things working in our favor.”

The bison grinned, his eyes shining like the sun.

“God do I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short and sweet, but I love me some Jean Bison x Arpeggio once in a while.


	26. Shotgun Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate ending to "A Cold Alliance" from Sly 3.

The general applied the cologne to his feathers, carefully dabbing it all around his body.

He looked at himself in the vanity mirror and grinned, a handsome rooster ready to be married to the best woman in China.

And the best part? After he awakened his stone dragon, the Cooper Gang had retreated from his stronghold, for good.

Jing King was still here, and the foul criminals, despite all their efforts, had ran with their tails between their legs.

Another victory for the impeccable General Tsao.

Suddenly, there was a knock on his chamber door.

“Yes?” He called.

“Sir, everything is ready. The wedding is about to start.”

“I will be out momentarily.”

“Yes Sir.”

The chicken took one last look at himself in the mirror, adjusted his ceremonial robes, and walked across his chamber to open the door.

_My ancestors are smiling down upon me. Absolutely nothing can go wrong now!_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Tsao took his place at the alter, and raised his hand in signal.

The Chinese band commenced playing the wedding music, and the double doors opened in the grand hall.

A big smile found its way across the rooster’s face as the opened doors revealed his bride. She was dressed in a stunning red gown and had a veil covering her face.

_I am surprised she isn’t sobbing_. He thought.  _Maybe she has changed her feeble mind._

As the bride drew closer to Tsao, his intuition detected that something was off and he frowned in confusion.

Jing King was awfully  _skinnier_ than he last remembered…

And…was that….something  _orange_ poking underneath the slit of her dress?

His brain quickly went into defense mode.

That woman was  _ **not**_ Jing King.

“STOP!” He boomed. The Chinese band abruptly halted their playing and stared at him, bewildered. The guards in the room exchanged worried looks.

“ **You** ,” he snarled, pointing at the fake bride. “Who are you? You are not my bride.”

The figure in the red gown went rigid.

“You don’t sound like Ringtail,” an unfamiliar voice called from the veil.

_Ringtail_?

Wait a minute.

_The raccoon thief?_

Rage instantly poured into Tsao. The Cooper Gang,  _they had done something._

“ **WHERE IS MY BRIDE?!** ”

The fake bride quickly ripped off her veil, and revealed herself to be Inspector Carmelita Fox of Interpol.

No.

Jing King was gone.

**_NO_**.

General Tsao had failed. She had escaped after all.

The chicken screamed in a blind fury. The people in the chamber cowered in fear, except the fox, who gaped at him wide-eyed.

“ **HOW DARE YOU INTRUDE ON MY WEDDING, YOU FOUL BITCH!!!** ”

_That_ seemed to get the Inspector’s attention. Her face suddenly contorted in anger, and she shifted her stance.

“I don’t know who the  _fuck_ you think you are, but  **no one**  calls me a bitch.”

“Do you think I’m scared of a woman?” He growled, drawing his shield.

The vixen became livid, and quickly pulled out her shock pistol.

“ _You should be very afraid of me._ ”

In that moment, chaos erupted in the wedding chamber.

Tsao lunged, screeching in fury. But the fox was faster.

She flipped out of the way of the chicken’s attack, landing on one of the wooden beams above in the hall.

Carmelita Fox fired her gun, the shock bullets raining down on the guards and Tsao. The wedding guests scattered in a panic, running for cover.

Tsao easily blocked the hits with his shield, but his guards crumbled as soon as they were struck.

The general yelled something in an unknown language, and all of a sudden two small ghost dragons apparated behind him.

The dragons advanced on the fox, who tried shooting them but her bullets passed through. Thinking fast, she jumped and swung on another beam like an acrobat.

As soon as she gained enough momentum, she let go and dived towards the rooster, kicking him square in the jaw.

He stumbled backwards, loosing his focus. The dragons disappeared.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Carmelita rebounded from Tsao and fired a shot underneath him, aiming for his legs.

The electric bullet connected with his right knee, and he screamed in pain, falling onto the floor.

She fired again, now at the vulnerable chicken, her shots causing him to sputter and convulse. The air smelling distinctly of burnt flesh and white feathers danced amidst the mayhem.

Inspector Fox fired a few more shots, making sure that the general was completely incapacitated. It wasn’t long before he completely blacked out.

Satisfied, the vixen lowered her gun and looked around. The guards were all either unconsciousness or had fled from the bust. The wedding guests and the band huddled together in the corners of the room, quaking with fear.

With a huff, Carmelita Fox strode over to the fallen General Tsao and knelt over him, cuffing his wings together.

_He’s not Cooper_ , she thought.  _But he’s better than nothing._

After checking that the cuffs were secured around Tsao’s wrists, she got up and walked over to two frightened pig guards.

“Hey,” she called. “You guys got any wedding cake? I’m starving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The wedding cake was actually not half bad, according to Carmelita)


	27. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate ending to Sly Cooper: Thieves in Time

 

 

_“Carmelita we have to go!”_

_“I can’t just let him get away Sly! He needs to be put down now!”_

_“Carmelita **please**.”_

_“I have to do this! For us!”_

_Sly thought for a moment, then he removed his paraglider pack and gave it to Carmelita._

_“Please be careful.”_

_The vixen looked at him, eyes filled with emotion._

_“Sly…..I…….”_

_He took her hand in his and squeezed._

_“I know, me too.”_

_Carmelita nodded, then turned around to face the crazed skunk in his contraption._

_“Cyrille Le Paradox, you are under arrest!”_

_The criminal mastermind glared at the Inspector._

_“We will see,” he sneered. Then he leapt out of the machine and dashed towards the cockpit._

_Carmelita gazed back at the raccoon one last time, and then ran after Le Paradox, pulling out her gun._

_Suddenly, a loud groaning noise erupted from the blimp. Metal beams crashed down and the floor began to rumble._

_“Sly, we have to get out of here!” Bentley called. “This whole blimp could go down any second!”_

_The thief looked at his two brothers, then back to where Carmelita had been standing._

Please let her make it out safely _, he prayed._

 

* * *

 

 

 

Six hours.

Six hours had passed since he had last seen Carmelita, and Sly was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

According to Bentley’s sources, Le Paradox had been captured alive. But he had had the paraglider on him, meaning that when the blimp had crashed, Carmelita had still been on board.

The raccoon jumped from rooftop to rooftop, frantically searching for a sign that Carmelita Fox was still alive.

He had checked everywhere: Police HQ, their apartment, hospitals. But the vixen was nowhere to be found.

Sly leapt down from the building and landed on an empty street. He was surprised that Paris was so quiet after all the ruckus. He hated the silence of the city, save for the occasional siren that cut through the air now and then.

As he walked down the street and turned a corner, he found himself facing the Pont Royal bridge over the Seine. He could still see pieces of Le Paradox’s blimp floating in the water.

The thief began to cross the bridge to the other side, but then something red on the ground had caught his eye.

_It couldn’t be._

He ran towards the object on the bridge, then skidded to a halt when he realized what it was.

Carmelita’s shock pistol.

Or what remained of it.

He picked up the busted weapon, noting how scratched up the star on the barrel was. It was cracked and dented, and when he uncocked it he saw that it was empty.

Sly had forgotten how long he stood there, staring at the broken gun with tears in his eyes. But then he received a transmission from Bentley.

“Sly? Sly do you read me?”

The raccoon put a finger up to his ear to his comm.

“Yes.”

“Did you find anything?”

Sly swallowed, but the lump in his throat would not recede. The tears would not stop streaming down his face.

“I found her gun.”

There was a thoughtful pause.

“Where?” Bentley asked.

“Pont Royal bridge.”

“I’m sending Murray with the Van. Just sit tight, okay?”

But Sly had already terminated the call.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Two weeks passed and the Cooper Gang was in their eastern hideout. Murray was eating cheese and crackers watching the news. Bentley was in his workshop, pouring over the Time Machine blueprints. Sly was alone in his room.

Exhausted, Bentley wiped his brow and wheeled himself out of his workshop to where Murray sat. The hippo smiled in greeting.

“Is he still in his room?”

The smile disappeared.

“Yeah,” the hippo responded. “I - I tried everything to cheer him up, but it’s like he’s a completely different person.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Bentley quietly stated.

Murray nodded, a sad look in his eyes, then turned back to the television.

Bentley left the room and strolled down the hallway to Sly’s room. The door was promptly shut and locked, and he knocked three times.

There was a pause, then the sound of a small click. The door opened and Sly Cooper peered out from behind it, bags under his eyes, his fur and hair rugged, and he was still wearing his pajamas.

“Hey,” the raccoon croaked.

The turtle just gazed at him, his eyes heavy with worry.

“May I come in?” He asked.

Sly nodded, and took a step back to let his reptilian brother enter his small, dark room.

Bentley wheeled himself inside. The curtains were drawn, and there were clothes and gear scattered all over the floor. His bed was unmade, and his cane was propped up against the wall.

The thief flipped the light switch, crossed the room and sat down on his bed.

As an unearthly silence set in, Bentley studied his longtime best friend. Sly couldn’t meet his eyes, and his leg bounced in anxiety.

He didn’t know what to say. But for some reason he seemed to understand his pain. The whole gang seemed to feel the pain, even Dimitri.

Losing Penelope had been a blow, yes. But losing Carmelita, it was like seeing your childhood toys being burned to ashes.

Carmelita Fox had been with the Gang for as long as Bentley could remember. She had chased them all over the globe, she had helped them out of sticky situations. 

And now she was gone.

The love of Sly’s life, the one thing that sparked his passion and drived him to steal.

Gone.

Bentley cleared his throat.

“So, how are you holding up?”

“How do you think,” the thief murmured.

“Listen, I know things are bad right now. But we  _will_ find her. I know it.”

“Bentley, we don’t even know if she’s  _alive_.”

“Come on Sly! This is Inspector Fox we’re talking about! If my calculations are correct, if she’s not here, then she’s somewhere in the time-space continuum!”

Sly said nothing.

The turtle rolled closer to the sulking raccoon and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll get though this, I promise.”

Sly looked at him, eyes bloodshot. Then suddenly he hugged his brother tightly.

Bentley went rigid, taken aback by the abrupt gesture. Then he patted him on the back.

“It’s gonna be okay. I promise we’ll bring her back.”

And Sly began to sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not so fun fact: when I was 3/4th's into this prompt, my computer crashed, and I lost EVERYTHING. So it took me twice as long to make this one because I had to start over.


	28. Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I used to do a lot of things" + Carmelita
> 
> (Requested by krimzie)

 

 

Carmelita Fox typed furiously on her laptop, sitting on her bed. It was ten'o clock at night and she was working on yet  _another_ report in a long line of them.

“Do you always do this before bed?”

She turned to Sly Cooper, leaning against her bathroom doorway. He was wearing his pajamas and held a toothbrush in his hand.

“I don’t intend on sleeping for a while,” she responded coolly. Then she returned to her work.

Sly sighed, went back into the bathroom to replace his toothbrush, then walked over to their bed.

“We need to talk.”

That seemed to grab the vixen’s attention, and she gave him a confused look. The raccoon leaned over and closed the laptop, then climbed into the bed with her.

“I think you work too hard.”

Carmelita scoffed. “It’s my job Ringtail. I’m supposed to be working hard.”

“I know, I know,” he replied. “It’s just…I highly doubt the Chief wants a report on a misdemeanor that literally happened this morning to be the first thing on his desk tomorrow.

"You don’t know Barkley like I do.”

“I know him enough to know that he’s too hard on you.”

“He has a tough job Sly. He’s stern because he has to be, besides he like family to me.”

Sly ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“When was the last time you took a vacation?”

_Oh no. This again._

The fox took a deep breath. “I’m fine Sly, I don’t need a vacation.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She thought for a moment. “About a year ago.”

“Which means,” Sly insisted. “That you’re due for another one.”

“Ringtail you don’t understand, my job is my life!”

“That’s exactly my point! Life is more than just work ‘Lita!”

Carmelita was about to say something, but the raccoon cut her off.

“It’s not okay to be so involved in your job that you don’t have time for anything else! We haven’t spent any quality time in weeks! When was the last time you did something fun??”

The vixen fell silent.

“I used to do a lot of things,” she murmured.

“Like?”

She shrugged. “Reading, dancing, travelling.”

“Then why don’t we do one of those things? Together as a couple?”

“But the HQ needs me!”

“The HQ doesn’t give a damn! All the head honchos care about are numbers and arrests! They don’t care about you like I do!”

Carmelita looked at him with annoyance, but Sly continued.

“Carmelita, _I love you_. I miss being with you outside of work. I want to make you happy, and as much as you say you’re happy at work, I don’t believe you. I want us to make this work. So please, I’m  _begging_ you, take some time off.”

Seconds ticked by without a word from the Inspector. Then she finally spoke.

“Ok.”

A big smile found it’s way on the retired thief’s face. He pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you.”

“On one condition.”

The raccoon went rigid. “Which is?”

“Let me finish this report first.”

He sighed in relief. “Of course, in fact, I’ll help you with it.”

Carmelita released herself from her lover’s embrace, then she kissed him, a small smile creeping on her lips.

Sly groaned, placing one hand on her cheek, the other on her hip, and tilted his head. He deepened the kiss, and Carmelita wrapped her arms around his neck.

He had forgotten how long he sat there, kissing his beautiful vixen. But when she pulled away, a small whine escaped from his throat.

“Report first. Then we’ll have some fun.”

Sly smiled mischievously.

“Anything for you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The smell of eggs and ham cooking gently woke Carmelita from her sleep. She sat up in her bed and stretched, rubbing the hickeys her boyfriend had left on her neck from last night.

The fox left her bed and donned her scattered pajamas, then made her way to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she said huskily.

Sly turned around from the stove to face her.

“Good morning gorgeous.”

“What time is it?”

He shrugged, “about nine thirty.”

The vixen’s blood went cold with panic. “Sly why didn’t you wake me?! We’re supposed to be at work!!”

“No we don’t.”

Carmelita stared at him aghast. “Ringtail, you don’t just not come into work when you decide you want a vacation! I need to fill out paperwork!”

Sly walked over to her and raised his hands in defense.

“Relax 'Lita, I already took care of it.”

“What?! How?!”

“Let’s just say that I contacted an old friend who convinced Interpol to have you take time off today.”

She cocked an eyebrow in confusion. Then something clicked.

“Please don’t tell me Bentley had something to do with it.”

Sly said nothing.

“ **You got Bentley involved?!?!** ” Carmelita shrieked in disbelief.

“Hey, you told me not to tell you.”

“What did he do?!”

“He simply ’re-examined’ your calendar and noticed that your vacation days begin  _today_. I even called Barkley to confirm.”

“And what did he say??”

“He said that you don’t have to come in today.”

The vixen exhaled and shut her eyes. Sly wrapped his arms around her into another hug.

“I appreciate the gesture Sly, but next time please let me do it my way.”

They swayed slightly on the kitchen floor, and the raccoon ran his hands through her hair.

“Ok, I’m sorry, I just wanted you to stay home today.”

After several seconds, they pulled away from each other.

“I think the eggs are burning,” Carmelita claimed.

Sly quickly turned around and swore quietly. He shut off the stove top burner, but the damage had already been done.

Carmelita chuckled, and her boyfriend gazed back at her with a defeated look.

“How about we get dressed and go to the cafe a few blocks away?”

He smiled. “That sounds lovely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer blacked out AGAIN. So sorry if this one is also a bit choppy, need to invest in new computer soon lol...


	29. A bottle of Rum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There was a time before all of this" + LeFwee
> 
> (Requested by anon)
> 
> (A continuation of "The talk of pirates")

 

 

 

“Yar har har! Full house!”

The other inmates looked at LeFwee’s cards in disbelief, then groaned.

“Alright ‘captain’, you win. What do you want from us?”

“Aye, I only wish for one thing. Rum!”

The inmates looked at each other in confusion. “That’s it?”

“Did I stutter? Ye heard me! Bring me some rum and your debt is paid!”

The biggest one, a large-tusked boar, simply shrugged. “I can get you some rum from one of the guards. After all, we are in a Jamaican prison.”

Suddenly, there was a loud buzzing sound. A correctional officer walked into the recreational center.

“Alright boys, party’s over. Return to your cells.”

The prisoners gave him a cold look, then stood up from their seats and filed out of the room. Lefwee hopped down from his seat and followed suit, but he was stopped by the guard.

“A word Lefwee.”

“Aye, he started it!”

He looked at him. “It’s not about last week’s fight.”

The parrot cocked his head in confusion.

“I have a message from the warden. About your son.”

Lefwee narrowed his eyes. “I have no son.”

The guard ignored this and continued.

“His mother passed away, and he wants to see you.”

His stomach suddenly dropped to his talons.

“Marie is….dead?”

The guard huffed, clearly annoyed. “If you have any business with your son now that his mother is out of the picture, take it to the warden.”

And he walked out, leaving Lefwee alone.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Lefwee climbed into his dingy bed and looked up at the ceiling of his cell.

_Marie_.

God, it hurt. For the first time in years, he felt grief. Pain.

“I didn’t know you had a son.”

The bird sighed in annoyance.  _Of course Raleigh had found out about his son._

“Not now matey.”

A pause, then he spoke again.

“How old is he?”

“I said  _not now_.”

“What was it that you wanted, rum?”

Lefwee’s eyes widened. He sat up from his bed and removed the loose brick in the wall between his cell and Raleigh’s.

The frog grinned, showing off his yellow teeth. In his hand was a silver flask.

“How?” The red parrot asked.

“I have my ways.”

“I suppose you want to hear my tale in exchange for the rum?”

“Correct.”

“But why do you care?”

Raleigh shrugged. “Information is valuable to me my dear man.”

Lefwee thought for a moment. He had only known the slimy amphibian for a month. If he learned about the former pirate’s backstory, what could he possibly have to gain?

And by god, he missed the taste of rum.

“Fine,” the pirate sneered. “Hand it over, then we’ll talk.”

Raleigh hopped down from his bed and leaped his way towards the opening, passing the flask through. Lefwee greedily snatched the flask, unscrewed the cap, then took a sip.

He swallowed. 

It was rum alright. And it was the good kind. The one that reminded Lefwee of…

…home.

“There was a time before all of this.” Lefwee stated. “There was a time before I became the monster that you see.”

“I was born at sea. I was the son of the ship carpenter, who raised me and taught all about pirate ships.”

“What about your mother?”

“She died when I was a hatchling. Some common wench, I don’t even remember her name.”

Raleigh fell silent as Lefwee took another swig, and continued.

“The captain of my father’s ship,  _The Devils’s Inferno_ , was a mean old bastard. Absolutely hated me for some reason. Probably because I was the only child on the ship. Every time I made a mistake, he would give me ten lashes, and if I even shed a tear, there would be ten more.”

“My father did nothing to intervene, of course. He was simply the ship carpenter. His job was to find problems on the vessel and fix them, that was it.”

“What does this have to do with your son?”

Lefwee took another swig, then passed the flask to Raleigh.

“Quiet! I’m getting there!”

“When I was fourteen years old, my father fell ill from typhus and died. Then I was promoted to ship carpenter. But the problem was I didn’t learn enough from my father to take on the duty. In fear for my life and in fear of the Captain’s fury, I stole a lifeboat and fled to Blood Bath Bay.”

“Then what happened?”

“I wandered the streets of the Bay for months, stealing food from market stalls and sleeping in alleyways. That’s when I met Mr. Ironwing.”

“Mr. Ironwing was the town blacksmith. A self-made toucan, who true to his name, had lost a wing and had built one out of metal.”

“He found me in the alley of his store one time, and brought me in. He nursed me back to health, and I became his apprentice for several years. He even taught me how sword fight.”

“I stayed with him for several years until I was seventeen years old. That’s when…”

He paused, lost in thought. Raleigh gaped at him, clearly invested in the story.

“…I met Marie”

“Marie Van Bluebeak was her name. She was a beautiful blue macaw. She worked nights at my favorite tavern:  _The Rusty Cutlass_. For several years Ironwing wouldn’t let me go in because I was just a boy…”

“But,” Raleigh interrupted. “I thought pirates didn’t care about underage drinking.”

LeFwee cocked an eyebrow. “Aye, I started drinking rum when I was ten years old! It was the sex that worried him! You’d be surprised how many pirates have died from sex diseases!”

Raleigh gave him a strange look. “I feel like we didn’t have to go there but nevertheless. Continue.”

“ _As I was saying_ , when I turned seventeen, Ironwing let me go to the  _Cutlass_  for the first time. I met Marie, a tavern girl, who was my age and was the most beautiful tavern girl I’d ever seen.”

“I would spend all my gold just to have her deliver me drinks. And in those moments I would talk to her. And she talked to me right back. Eventually, we would spend time together when she wasn’t working. We…we fell in love…if you would even call it that…”

LeFwee’s face then suddenly scrunched up in disgust.

“Then her father came back.”

“As luck would have it, Marie’s father happened to be the same man who was the captain of  _The Devil’s Inferno_. The very same man who had beat me all those years.”

“I came to the tavern one night and saw that Marie wasn’t working. When I asked another tavern girl where she had gone, she had explained that her father had come and ‘convinced’ her to take the night off.”

Raleigh swallowed. He had a sickly feeling he knew where this was heading.

“I knew in my heart that something was afoot. So I flew as fast as I could to her shack by the sea. And I when I found her she…..her father was…..”

Lefwee choked, and covered his face with his wing.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Raleigh said softy.

The parrot looked at him, eyes bloodshot. “I had never been so angry in my entire life. I just tackled him to the floor and beat him over and over again. When I was finished, I insisted that Marie and I go to Ironwing.”

“Unfortunately, word flew fast in Blood Bath Bay. And the very next day Marie’s father’s crew, along with her father, came to Mr. Ironwing’s door and demanded me to be hanged.”

“Marie was terrified, and Mr. Ironwing didn’t know how to handle the situation. So I gathered up all my courage, and challenged her father to a sword duel.”

“Marie begged me not to do it, but I was stubborn. If her father wanted Marie so badly, he was going to have to go through me.”

Raleigh took a swig from the flask, then passed it back to Lefwee.

“The next day, I met her father in the town square, along with his crew. We drew our swords and fought with fury and ferocity. But as soon as I had the upper hand, I slipped, and he sliced off my left wing.”

The frog made a small gasp, and Lefwee resumed his story.

“I had collapsed, and the Captain was about to deliver the final blow. But then Marie had snuck up behind him, and stabbed him in the back!”

“After she had killed him, his crew descended upon us in rage. But she being a macaw, she simply grabbed me by the scruff and flew away to safety.”

“We found a doctor who stitched up my wound, and we decided to cut our losses and make a run for it. But when we fled to Mr. Ironwing’s shop, we found him dead.”

“Oh heavens,” Raleigh murmured. He took a sip of rum.

“With no where to go, we decided to steal a small boat, and fled to the sea. For several months, we hopped from island to island, drinking from coconuts and fishing for our dinner. We were homeless and penniless, but we were happy.”

Lefwee paused, a strange look on his face.

“But then, one day, she told me she had become pregnant.”

“I was…shocked of course. But Marie, she said she had always wanted to start a family. She said that I would make a good father…”

“But I was scared, I wasn’t ready to become a father. And what kind of mother and father would we be? Hopping from island to island, living in the wilds. It was no place to raise a child.”

“I argued that if we were to start a family, we needed to go back to Blood Bath Bay. But Marie had none of it, she said that she wanted to….to leave the Caribbean. She was sick of the pirate’s life, and believed that the modern world was better than the life we were born in.”

Raleigh looked at Lefwee with a strange sort of sadness.

“One day, we were captured by a group of pirates who called themselves the Red Sail Sea Dogs. But upon seeing that Marie was noticeably pregnant, they decided to take pity on us, and offered us to be members of their crew.”

“Many months later, Marie had laid her egg, and I had scaled the ranks into becoming First Mate. For a short time, we were happy. But then  _The Devil’s Inferno_  returned and attacked our ship.”

“The battle was long and deadly, both sides suffered major casualties, including our Captain. But we won, despite everything, we won, and sunk  _The Devil’s Inferno_  into the sea.”

“Everything seemed okay at first, but after the battle, Marie and her egg were nowhere to be found.”

“For several hours, we thought the worst had happened during the chaos. But then, I found….this.”

Lefwee reached into his chest feathers, and pulled out a small scroll. He unrolled it and cleared his throat.

“ _LeFwee-  
_

_I cannot do this anymore. The pirate’s life is not what I want for our child. They deserve better than what we had. As you read this, I am rowing my way to the mainland in search of a better life. As you fight the battle above deck, please know that I love you, and even though I may never see you again, you were the best thing that has ever happened to me._

_Love,_

_Marie_ ”

The parrot sniffed, and wiped away a single tear streaking down his face, then replaced the note back in his chest.

He fell silent for several minutes, then Raleigh spoke.

“So you became Captain?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I became Captain and sailed back to Blood Bath Bay, where eventually after years of fighting, cheating, and stealing, I became the terror of the Bay. I became the King of the Pirates.”

“And now, after the Cooper Gang had destroyed everything I had built, I am here. Jailed, for the rest of my days.”

There was a deafening silence, as Raleigh studied the old bird, unsure of what to say. The rum had been finished, and the frog now held an empty flask.

“If I did my math right, he should be twenty-seven years old.”

“Who?”

“My son you ignorant toad.”

Sir Raleigh cocked his head. “Why don’t you want to see him?”

“Because he would remind me too much of Marie.”

“If I were you, I would want him to come.”

LeFwee gaped at the frog. “Why?!”

“Because then it would give you closure, my good man. I may be a criminal, but I know how to handle my emotions.”

LeFwee squawked in anger. “Shut up! You know nothing you sack of maggots!”

He then slammed the brick back into it’s hole, and marched back into his bed, seething.

_Can’t believe I told him my life’s story, only to be given a lecture!_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Three days later, LeFwee sat alone in his cell, reading Marie’s letter over and over again.

_It would give you closure._

The parrot had been having dreams non-stop of Marie. And he pondered on what the frog had said to him.

_But why?_  He thought.  _Why would he want to see me now? After everything I’ve done?_

_Perhaps he seeks closure also._ Came a thought from the back of his mind.

LeFwee looked back on his life, and forward towards his bleak future. If he was really going to spend the rest of his life in prison, maybe having someone on the outside wasn’t so bad after all.

LeFwee took a deep breath, then walked out of his cell to the nearest guard.

“I wish to speak to the warden,” he declared.

“About?”

The parrot smiled. “I wish to see my son.”


	30. Disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmelita goes undercover and gets a little more than she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt this anthology series to bring you 7 Days of SlyFox!  
> The next seven chapters contain seven different tales of our favorite raccoon and fox couple!  
> So sit back, relax, and enjoy the shipping!

 

 

Carmelita cursed as she ran down the hallway, her cream and orange tail dancing behind her.

She was currently in the underground basement of a building venue on the outskirts of Paris. The said venue was hosting an EDM festival, which according to the vixen’s sources, was a front for several black market dealings. One of the artists performing, a hyena who called himself “DJ Spotti”, was actually a notorious weapons dealer - and it was Carmelita’s mission to catch him in the act.

So the fox quickly whipped up a cover, had Interpol get her a three-day VIP pass, and snuck her way past security into the basement.

The undercover Inspector quickly skidded to halt as she came face to face with a perpendicular intersection.

She groaned in annoyance, looking around for a sign or giveaway to the operation.

Following her gut, she made a right turn and….

…ran into a pair of puma guards, walking out of a room.

_Shit_.

“HEY,” one of the guards boomed. “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE DOWN HERE.”

Thinking quickly, she played dumb. “I’m so sorry sir. But I seem to be lost.”

“How did you get here?” The other guard asked. “The doors to the basement are clearly locked with a keycard.”

_Uh oh._

She had snagged said keycard while she had been flirting with one of the security guards earlier.

“The door was unlocked…?”

His eyes narrowed. “You better come with us.”

Carmelita took a step back. “No, it’s okay. I know my way back.”

“I said, come here.”

He reached into his jacket, and the fox saw the handle of a nine millimeter.

_Run_.

She turned around and made a mad sprint back the way she came. Behind her several gunshots went off, and she ducked as bullets whizzed past her.

Carmelita turned right, ran down another hallway, and then saw an open door to the mechanical room. She dashed inside, closed the door, and hid behind a large boiler.

The fox held her breath in suspense as she heard loud running come towards the door, and exhaled in relief as they passed her.

Suddenly, a hand clapped over her mouth, and an unknown arm from behind her wrapped her around in a tight hold.

Reflexively, Carmelita bit down on the hand, and slammed her foot down on the assailant’s foot.

He gasped sharply, but did not scream, and released her. She swiftly turned around, ready to strike…

A raccoon?

It only took two seconds for her to realize who it was, as the India incident had made her more aware of men in disguise.

“Sly?!” She exclaimed.

He reared his head back in shock. “Carmelita?!”

“What - what….?”

“ _What are you wearing?!_ ” They both said simultaneously.

Carmelita gaped at the thief’s outfit. He was wearing a black fishnet tank top, blue parachute cargo pants dangling with sequins, yellow sandals, a neon green cap, 3-D glasses, had fake piercings on his ears, nose, and belly button, and had dyed bits of his fur with neon paint. He also had his golden cane strapped to his back.

She covered her mouth and bit back a shriek of laughter. He looked absolutely  _ridiculous_. 

“Who the hell dressed you?” She hissed. “An art teacher on crack?!”

He merely stared back at her bewildered. “Look who’s talking! Have you looked in a mirror lately?!”

Carmelita was wearing a black crop top with feathers dangling at the hem, yellow shorts with stockings, furry blue boots, finger-less gloves, her arms and stomach decorated with fake tattoos, and had dyed the ends of her hair pink, wearing it down.

“Are you kidding me?!” She cried. “I’m undercover! I picked these out in a thrift store, unlike  _you_.”

“For your information,  _Bentley_ bought all of this online!”

“Of  _course_ he did Cooper! He has no sense of fashion!”

“Oh so now  _you’re_ the one preaching me about fashion choices?? Miss ‘tube top and cropped yellow jacket’ Fox??”

Her face went red. “That’s….I….don’t change the subject! What the  _hell_ are you doing here?!”

“What do you think I’m doing?? I’m a thief! This festival is ripe with things to steal! Do the math!”

“Don’t you take that tone with me!”

He sighed in annoyance. “Ok, ok I’m sorry. I just don’t like it here. Too loud, too crowded and the music is  _awful_.”

“Well duh, we are at an EDM fest.”

He relaxed. “Murray actually likes EDM. It’s a shame he’s too big to fit into the vents. I would’ve brought him but he needs to be with the Van.”

There was a pause.

“Well, it was nice to see you Inspector. As much as I would love to stay and chat I have a heist to pull.”

He turned around, but Carmelita grabbed his arm.

“Oh no you don’t! You’re not blowing this for me!”

He stopped and looked back at her, cocking an eyebrow.

“What are you gonna do? Shock me? I highly doubt your gun is in those  _very short_ shorts.”

The vixen grunted in exasperation. “Listen to me Ringtail! As much as I would  _love_ to arrest you right now, you need to call this off! These guys are  _serious_ , they’re not some idiot thugs you can just rob blind.”

Sly looked offended. “What are you talking about?? Don’t you know my MO by this point? Black market crime rings have always been my targets!”

“Ok fine! Whatever! But Spotti and his goons, _they’ll kill you_. For once in your life, let me do my job!”

He cocked his head, looking at her with a mixed expression. “Maybe we can work together?”

“Absolutely not! I’m not going to help you steal something!”

“What if I didn’t have to?”

Carmelita looked  _very_ confused.

“‘Lita, listen. If there’s one thing you know about me, it’s that my favorite thing to do is screw over criminal masterminds. So here’s the deal:  _I_ help you take down the hyena crime-lord, and in exchange I  _won’t_ steal his loot.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I take whatever I want and possibly jeopardize your mission.”

The vixen gave him a look that could kill.

“God dammit,” she breathed. “ _Fine_.”

He grinned impishly. 

“Awesome, y’know you and I make a great pair.”

“ **Please** don’t ruin it.”

“Anything for you Inspector.”

He turned around and strode towards the back wall.

“What are you doing?”

Sly looked at her and gestured to a vent grill on the upper left of the wall. “There are guards everywhere, it’s the only way we can’t be seen.”

Carmelita looked at the door where she had come in, then back at the vent.

“I guess I have no choice,” she muttered.

She walked over to where Sly was standing. He got up on a small box underneath the vent and unscrewed the grill open.

“After you,” he said flirtatiously.

“No, you first.”

“Why? Don’t want me to try anything?”

“No, I’m not giving you the opportunity to stare at my ass.”

The raccoon swallowed. “That’s fair.”

He crawled into the vent first, and Carmelita followed suit.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“How much farther?” Carmelita whispered.

“According to Bentley, we’re close to the auction room. Just a couple of more rooms over.”

The fox huffed in annoyance. As much as she hated working with the thief, the only way to get him to leave without stealing anything would be to cooperate.

Suddenly, Sly’s ears perked up and he stopped. He raised his hand, and Carmelita stopped moving.

“What is it?”

“Shh!”

She grit her teeth, but then she heard it. Voices coming closer.

“-the hell is he? I didn’t waste my time and money to be kept waiting.”

“The buyer should be here any minute,” a female voice chimed in.

“Better be,” said the other voice. It dawned on the Inspector that the voice belonged to DJ Spotti. “If I miss my set, there’s gonna be hell to pay!”

The voices faded away, and Sly signaled Carmelita to keep moving.

After a few minutes of crawling, the raccoon stopped again, then turned right at an intersection. Carmelita followed after him, and she heard a small noise and a pop.

A dim light shined onto the vixen’s face as Sly crawled out of the vent and leaped into the empty auction room. He reached out his arms and helped his companion out of the crawlspace.

“Jesus Christ,” Carmelita murmured. 

In the room were dozens of wooden boxes. They were all covered with a symbol of a skull, along with numbers and warning labels in several different languages.

“Yikes,” Sly whispered. “You weren’t kidding when you said this guy meant business.”

He removed his cane from his back and walked over to one of the boxes. The thief hooked his cane on the lid, and with all his might, pried it open with a small  _crack._

A low whistle escaped his lips, and beckoned Carmelita over.

“This all the proof you need?”

She looked inside, and found dozens of semi-automatic rifles. The fox quickly reached into her back pocket and took out a digital camera, photographing the evidence.

“This is perfect! If I get this to Chief Barkley then it’s all over for that hyena scumbag!”

Carmelita walked over to another box.

“Can you get this one open too? I just need a few more shots and we’re done!”

The raccoon smiled mischievously, then he frowned suspiciously.

She was about to say something, but then she heard it too. Footsteps.

“Quick! Hide!”

Sly ran over and grabbed her hand, and the two dove for cover behind a large vertical box. The door to the room swung open, and a hyena in an expensive black t-shirt and jeans walked in, along with several other animals.

“Alright gentlemen. What can I interest you in tonight?”

The thief and the Inspector peaked out from behind their hiding place. There were four pumas wearing black suits and sunglasses, a female antelope in a red dress holding a clipboard, a large scarred rhino in leather, and a jackal in a fancy suit.

Carmelita recognized the jackal as a eastern European mob boss who had a warrant out for his arrest, along with his rhino bodyguard.

_Excellent!_  She thought.  _Killing two birds with one stone._

She raised the camera, but before Sly could warn her, she took the photo…

…with the flash  _on_.

DJ Spotti looked back in alarm. “What was that??”

_Shit_.

Sly pulled Carmelita back, but before they could move, the four puma guards had surrounded them.

“Boss! Intruders!”

The pumas grabbed the fox and raccoon, separating them. Carmelita screeched in fury and tried to shake the guard off, but he was too strong.

“Let her go!” Sly shouted.

They dragged them to Spotti, and he grinned. 

“Well, helloooooo sexy. What are you doing down here foxy lady?”

Sly glared at him, then a puma guard spoke.

“That’s the woman who was running around in the basement before, boss.”

The hyena leered at Carmelita. “Looking for an autograph, sweetheart?”

“ _Don’t_ call me sweetheart, you piece of shit,” she growled.

The hyena laughed and snapped his fingers.

“Frisk him, and hold her down.”

“Don’t you dare touch her!!” Sly screamed as they removed his cane.

Spotti leaned over and ran his hands up and down Carmelita. He felt something solid in her pocket, and pulled out a little black case.

“What do we have here?”

He opened the case, and the hyena’s face changed. Inside was Carmelita’s police badge.

“You bitch,” he snarled. And he smacked Carmelita in the face.

“Bastard!” Sly roared.

“Is there problem?” The jackal asked in a thick accent.

“No, no, I can handle this,” Spotti replied.

He snapped his fingers again, and the guards dropped Sly and Carmelita on the ground. A guard walked over and gave Spotti a handgun.

“As much as I would love to get to know you Inspector, I’m afraid rules are rules.”

He pointed the gun towards Carmelita.

“NO!” Sly screamed. 

The thief stomped his foot, and suddenly smoke erupted all over the room.

Everyone coughed and gagged, and Carmelita felt somebody grab her arm.

“Quick! With me!” Sly cried.

He lead her to the door and slammed it open, and the two of them ran out in the hallway.

“GET THEM!” Carmelita heard Spotti scream.

“Sly, the evidence!” The fox protested.

“It’s not worth your life!”

They ran down the hallways, making abrupt lefts and rights, before jumping into a small broom closet.

The fox and raccoon hid in the small space, catching their breath.

“Now what do we do? If I call backup, he’ll get away, and the whole thing is blown!”

“I can get my gang…”

“No, if they get involved then everything gets thrown into question. I have to catch him by myself!”

Sly thought for a minute, then his ears perked up again. He looked up, and saw that there was a vent right above in the closet.

“I think I have an idea…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Let me go you bastard!”

Two puma guards dragged Carmelita Fox down the hall, into a large empty room.

They threw her onto the ground, and DJ Spotti laughed.

“Can’t get enough of me, eh sweetheart?”

The hyena leaned down and lifted up the fox’s chin, his fangs glinting in the flickering light.

“Where’s your friend?” He asked.

“He’s gone,” she spat. “He went to get help.”

The hyena’s eyes narrowed.

“He won’t get far. Marco, Baxter, find him!”

“Yes boss,” the guards answered. They rushed out of the garage, leaving them alone.

Spotti grinned menacingly. “Such a shame I have to kill you, you’re exactly my type.”

He pulled out a handgun.

“I don’t understand,” Carmelita interrupted. “Why are you an arms dealer? I thought you were a successful musician!”

The hyena looked at her, dumbfounded. Then he howled with laughter.

“Why not?!” He hollered. “I may make a lot of money in the music business, but I make ten fold that in the arms business!”

“But where did you get the guns??”

“Are you stupid? I steal em’ of course!!”

“How could you possibly have stolen all those guns? Some of those were Interpol grade!”

“God, you really are not the brightest bulb! I make music, they give me money, I hire thieves with money, thieves steal guns, I sell guns, and I make even more money!!”

He pointed the gun into Carmelita’s face.

“My operation is flawless! And now, dear detective, here is your swan song.”

She looked up at the hyena, and grinned slyly.

“Gotcha.”

The hyena’s face suddenly changed.

“NOW SLY,” Carmelita screamed.

Without warning, the lights went out in the room. Spotti fired his gun in panic, and fumbled around in the dark, cursing.

A few seconds later, the lights came back on. DJ Spotti was unconscious on the floor, and the vixen stood over him with the gun in hand, triumphant.

“Nice work Ringtail,” she called out.

But there was no response.

“Sly, you can come out now?”

Carmelita looked around in confusion, then she saw it. On the floor was a calling card, a cellphone and her digital camera.

She picked up the camera, which had a video recording on it. After watching the video, she realized that Sly had recorded the brief conversation between Spotti and Carmelita, revealing himself as a crime lord.

The fox smirked.

_Clever raccoon_ , she thought.

Then she picked up the cellphone and called HQ for backup.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sly sat in the Van, ignoring Bentley’s death stare and fiddled with the radio in the front seat.

“You should’ve seen what Carmelita was wearing,” he joked. “She said she bought everything at a thrift store.”

“They had a better selection online,” the turtle grumbled.

“Yeah, but no offense, never pick out outfits for me again buddy.”

Murray burst out laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I actually like EDM, but I've never been to an EDM festival myself. Hopefully this doesn't sound too exaggerated)


	31. Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmelita confronts Sly about his amnesia lie.

 

 

_“Have you lost your damn mind?”  
_

Carmelita swallowed, but did not falter at Chief Barkley’s scowl.

“Sir, with all due respect, this is an opportunity for us to finally gain a member of the force with solid criminal experience.”

“Because  _he_ is one!!”

“But he doesn’t know that! Why put a man in jail if he doesn’t remember his crimes?!”

“Because it’s our jobs! Amnesia or not he is guilty of countless thefts!!”

She pinched her snout. “If we send him to jail, he will eventually figure out why he’s there and who he is, and given his background there is a ninety percent chance he will successfully escape, putting us back at square one. But  _if_ we tell him that he’s a member of Interpol and ifhe  _believes_ it, then he can use his skills to help  _us_ solve crimes!”

“And what happens if his memory returns? What happens if he realizes he’s being used and decides to make a run for it?”

“Then he won’t get very far,” the fox argued. “Without help from his gang, there’s no way he can leave the country. Ever since the Island I’ve been monitoring him very closely. Neither him or his gang have attempted to make contact with one another, leading me to believe that they have scattered.”

Barkley got up from his desk and turned around facing the window, clasping his hands behind his back.

“And what if this amnesia is actually a hoax, Inspector? What if he’s lying?”

Carmelita scoffed. “Why on earth would he lie about having amnesia? What could he possibly have to gain?”

“Information,” he stated bluntly. “If he sees how we operate, he may use that against us.”

“He won’t.”

“What makes you so sure of yourself, Fox? You’re awfully defendant of him lately.”

She shifted her weight. “I’ve been trying to catch him for years. I want to know what goes on inside his mind. I want to learn how he operates. If I gain his expertise, then we can prevent people like him committing crimes at all.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Carmelita took a deep breath.

“I saw him get shot by M. I saw him look at me, confused and afraid. I can detect a lie from  _anyone_ Barkley. And I assure you,  _he’s not lying_.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then I will take full responsibility for any repercussions it may cause.”

The badger turned around, giving an intense look.

“Will you risk everything for this? Will you really guide Sly Cooper to abandon his ways and teach him to be one of us?”

The room went deathly silent for several seconds. 

“Yes.”

He walked over to his desk and sat down, gazing at Carmelita with an expression she could not identify.

“Then proceed.”

She felt herself go hot, then cold. Had she heard him correctly?

“You’re…saying yes?”

“Would you rather me not?”

“But-but what about the Director?”

“I will deal with him,” the badger said coolly. “Your job is to deal with Cooper. I want you to teach him how to be one of us.”

Carmelita felt a large weight be lifted off her chest. “I will Chief.”

“I’m putting a lot of faith in you, Carmelita. More than I think I should. So don’t let me down.”

“I won’t.”

“Then you’re dismissed. Make sure his training begins next week.”

“Yes sir.”

She grabbed her back and walked towards the door.

“Fox.”

She turned around.

“If anything goes wrong, it’s  _you_ who will take the fall. Remember that.”

Carmelita looked at him, unsure of what to say, then simply nodded. She opened the door and walked out of Chief Barkley’s office.

“God please let her be right,” he breathed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Carmelita unlocked and opened the door to her apartment.

When she walked in, the first thing that she noticed was that the window was open.

Her blood went cold.  _Had he ran away?_

“Inspector, is that you?”

A wave of relief crashed over her body. “Yes,” she called. “Where are you?”

“In the guest room.”

She closed the door and walked down the hall to find Sly Cooper, lying in the guest bed, reading a book.

He smiled in greeting and closed the book, sitting up.

“How was work?”

“Fine,” she replied, not smiling.

He tilted his head, confused. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” she said. She crossed the room and sat on the bed next to him, gazing down at the floor, tongue in cheek.

Sly looked at her nervously. She wasn’t angry, but there was something in her posture that made him uneasy.

“Why did you lie?”

He felt his stomach drop.

“What-what do you mean?”

“Cut the crap, Ringtail. I want to know why you lied to me.”

Beads of sweat began to form all over his body. He tried to say something, but his mouth was dry.

Carmelita pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

“Sly Cooper, this is your last chance. Tell me the truth or I will arrest you.”

Sly’s mind kicked into high gear, a million thoughts running though his head all at once. What could he say? What  _should_ he say?

“Because…..because……”

“Because?”

_TELL HER_ , his mind screamed at him.

Carmelita sighed in disappointment. 

“You have the right to remain-”

“I love you.”

She stopped and her eyes widened. “What?”

The thief took a deep breath.

“When I hit my head, everything went white. And for a short time, I  _really_ couldn’t remember who I was. But then after we got picked up, and I got treated by the medics, it slowly came back to me. But….but I didn’t want leave you, so I lied. I lied to you because I wanted to stay, and I was afraid that if I told you that I remembered, you would turn against me.”

He looked at her, eyes filled with emotion.

“I understand if you’re going to arrest me. I don’t blame you. But if I’m really going to jail, I need you to know that I have always…always loved you.”

There was a pause, and Sly closed his eyes, bracing himself for her fury.

“It was real?”

He opened his eyes in surprise. Her tone had been so soft that he thought he had misheard.

“What?”

“All the flirting, all the kindness, it was real?”

“Uh…yeah.”

“You meant all the things you said?”

Tears began to form in her eyes.  _Was she upset?_

“I meant everything I’ve ever said to you. I love you.”

Carmelita looked at him, tears streaming down face. Then suddenly she lunged at him, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Oh my God, you insane man.”

He slowly placed his arms around her, hyper aware of the proximity between them.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes Sly, I’m fine. It’s just…my God you took a goddamn bullet for me! You idiot!”

“He was going to hurt you.”

She reared her head back and gaped at him. “I was going to move out of the way!! You didn’t have to jump in front of me! You could have DIED!!”

Carmelita buried her face into his neck, sobbing.

“ _ **Don’t you ever do that again!**_  Do you understand?! I swear to God if you ever do anything like that again I’ll….I’ll…..”

He stroked her back gently, and they rocked together in embrace.

After several minutes, Carmelita pulled back from Sly and wiped away her tears.

“So…are you done? For real?”

“Done with what?”

“Stealing.”

He gave her a small smile. “Yes, I’m done. I’m giving it up…for you.”

Carmelita took a deep breath and exhaled. “Ok….ok that’s ok. But there’s something you need to know.”

Sly stroked her cheek. “Tell me.”

“I talked to Barkley, and I convinced him that you could join Interpol as my partner. But he doesn’t know that you’re lying, so until I figure out how to break the news to him, can we make this our….our secret?”

He looked at her, his eyes sparkling. “Of course, but are you okay lying to your boss?”

“Honestly, no. But if I didn’t he would’ve thrown you in jail. So I told him that if you were lying about the amnesia then I would take the fall.”

Sly stared at her in alarm. “Why would you do that?!”

“Because I feel the same way, you crazy raccoon.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t have to put yourself on the line.”

“Well, you  _did_ take a bullet for me, so I say now we’re even.”

The thief took her hands and placed them in his. 

“So we’re in this together then?”

“Yes.”

He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They gazed at each other softly, then Sly’s stomach rumbled, snapping them out of the moment.

Carmelita stood up. “Want to go get some food, partner?”

“Absolutely,” he replied.


	32. Handcuffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MATURE THEMES AHEAD. READER DISCRETION ADVISED.

 

 

Sly Cooper stood in flannel pajama pants over the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth. He spit out the paste, put away his brush, and strode over to the doorway into the bedroom.

He leaned against the frame, watching as his partner, Carmelita Fox, laid in their bed on her side, reading a book in her pajamas.

Detecting his presence, she glanced over to where the raccoon was standing.

“Enjoying the view?” She asked suggestively.

“You know it, gorgeous.”

She chuckled, and put down her book as Sly approached her. 

“Got something on your mind Ringtail?”

“Just you,” he said in a low voice. He climbed into the bed and kissed her, pulling her close.

She reciprocated happily, running a hand through his chest fur, and heard him groan ever so slightly.

Sly tilted his head and deepened the kiss, his tongue rubbing against hers and his teeth nibbling her lower lip. His hand trailed up and down the curve of her waist, the other firmly glued on her cheek.

After what seemed like hours, they pulled away from each other, panting. Carmelita felt something ignite inside of her and looked at Sly with dark eyes.

“Do you want to?”

The raccoon felt his heart shudder. “Please.”

She smirked and suddenly she was on top of him, tracing circles on his chest with her fingers. He hissed and reached for her, locking his hands on her hips.

Carmelita leaned down and kissed him again hungrily. Sly felt his blood rushing in his ears, the fur on the back of his neck stood up on end.  _God_ , she felt so good pressed against him.

His ears perked up the sound of a soft  _click_ , and he opened his eyes abruptly. He recognized that sound, he had heard it countless times.

Sly broke the kiss and looked down. Carmelita had produced a pair of handcuffs (from where he had no idea), and had chained his left hand with her right.

He looked up at her in confusion and mild alarm. “What are you doing?”

She blushed deeply. “I wanted…I wanted to try something a little bit different tonight.”

He blinked in surprise, then grinned. “Why Inspector, are you going against protocol? For me?”

“Maybe,” she said flirtatiously. “I know how much you  _love_ breaking the rules.”

His grin widened. “What am I being charged with?” He asked, voice husky.

She moved against him. “Neglecting your duty.”

He shifted his free hand to the small of her back and pulled her closer to him. 

“And my sentence?”

“I sentence you to one night in my bedroom.”

“Perfect.”

Sly pressed his lips against hers, pushing his tongue inside of her. He slowly maneuvered his right hand up her back to her neck, and he heard a small noise escape from her throat.

The raccoon moved his lips down her jaw, to her neck, leaving a trail of small kisses. He gave her exposed neck his undivided attention, assaulting her skin and fur with kisses, sucks, and small nips.

Carmelita gasped at his touch, taking her free hand and raked it though his hair. He groaned, and bucked his hips against hers.

He pulled himself away from her neck, and inspected the markings that he had left. When he was finished, he gazed into her eyes, losing himself in the colors of her iris.

“Can I touch you?” She whispered.

“Yes.”

The fox swallowed, then shifted herself on top of him. She trailed her free hand down from his hair to his chest fur to his stomach. Sly’s breath hitched in anticipation, and her hand slipped underneath the waistline of his pajama pants.

She brushed his hardened member, and he exhaled though his nose. Carmelita paused, looking at him thoughtfully, then gently gripped his shaft.

He felt himself blush profusely as more blood began to rush downwards, making him harder. She slowly moved her hand up and down, gripping him tighter.

Sly’s back arched at the sensation, and he closed his eyes. He replaced his hands on her hips, and she continued her movements, gradually accelerating her pace.

The raccoon moaned softy at her touch, mumbling her name over and over. She paused again, her hand at the top of his ever so hard shaft, and moved her thumb in circles over his tip.

He rolled his hips at the sensation, and opened his eyes to look at her. She glanced at him, breaking her concentration.

“Is this okay?”

“Oh my God  _yes_.”

She smirked deviously, and stroked his shaft faster. Sly felt his body temperature rise profusely, and his breathing came in rapid bursts.

He felt himself get closer and closer to his climax, and before he can warn her, she abruptly stopped.

He made a small whine, and Carmelita gave him a wicked look.

“You’ve had your fun Ringtail, now it’s time to pay up.”

Sly looked at her, and he smiled devilishly.

“I’d thought you’d never ask.”

Quicker than a jackrabbit, he grabbed Carmelita and flipped the two of them over, pinning her underneath him. She gasped in surprise, and he planted his chained hand on the bed, keeping him stilted. He moved his other hand down to her waist, tugging at her pajama shorts.

“Can I take this off?” He asked in sultry voice.

Her pupils dilated and she grinned. “I’d thought you never ask.”

His smile widened from ear to ear, and at an agonizingly slow speed, he peeled off the fabric. He dragged the clothing down to her thighs, and gazed at her exposure.

Carmelita felt herself get very, very warm. Sly looked at her right in the eyes, his expression filled with lust.

She nodded in signal, and with his free hand, he ran his thumb down her womanhood.

He stroked her sides, up and down, and the fox felt herself shiver.

The raccoon decided to take it up a notch, and with his index finger, he slipped inside of her.

She made a small gasp and arched her back at the touch. He chuckled softly, and twisted his finger, curling it around her clit.

He began massaging and rubbing the swollen organ, and Carmelita moaned. She softly called out his name, and murmured something in Spanish that almost sounded like a prayer.

Sly then pushed his ring finger inside of her, and used both digits to stimulate her sex.

The fox bit down on her lower lip and felt her eyes roll back into her skull. His hands were cold, but compared to the searing heat inside of her, it was welcome.

He moved away from her clit and she made a high-pitched yearning noise. Sly shifted his position on top of her, and straightened his fingers, going deeper.

Carmelita’s breathing became frantic, and he slowly moved his fingers inside and outside of her. His eyebrows knitted in focus, his body rigid.

She gripped the sheets with her hands, the cuffs binding their hands together clinked audibly.

Sly quickened his motions, and she cried out in ecstasy. She begged him not to stop and he moved faster, complying with her demands.

Seconds turned to minutes, and Carmelita felt lightheaded. The fire in her belly becoming stronger and stronger, her womanhood dripping with want.

She felt herself get closer and closer to her climax, the wave steadily building up. But before it could hit, Sly stopped.

Carmelita’s eyes ripped open and she strained her head to look at him. He removed his fingers and she made a small noise in protest.

The raccoon leaned down and kissed her, tugging at the hem of her shirt. She gripped the cloth and with his help, ripped it off her torso in one fluid motion.

She kicked off her shorts, and reached for the waist of Sly’s pajama pants. He understood immediately, got up and tore them off.

They gazed at each other bare, and Sly tugged at the cuffs.

“Do you….want to keep these on?”

Carmelita licked her lips in excitement.

“Yes,” she breathed, voice heavy with ardor.

He grinned, showing off his teeth. He positioned himself on top of her, and reached over to the nightstand, turning off the light.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They collapsed on the bed, chests heaving, sweat running down their bodies. After a few minutes, Sly turned to Carmelita, her fur shining from the city lights outside.

“That….was…..amazing….”

She nodded. “I’m…..I’m surprised I didn’t….think of the cuffs earlier.”

“Speaking of which…my wrist is actually starting to feel sore, so can we take them off now?”

“Yes, of course.”

She got up from the bed and turned on the light. Then she opened the drawer to the nightstand and sifted through it’s contents.

Carmelita’s brows furrowed in confusion, then she felt her blood freeze with panic.

She looked back at him, eyes wide with alarm.

“So….we may have a problem.”

Sly cocked his head. “What?”

Her face went red with embarrassment. “I….might have….accidentally left the key at the office?”

He gaped at her. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.”

He looked away and scratched his chin, the gears in his head actively turning.

“Well,” he said. “At least Barkley will find it funny.”

Carmelita smacked him with her pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....oops....


	33. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The anniversary comes around, and Sly thinks about his choice.

 

 

_BANG BANG BANG._

_His father getting up from his seat in alarm and looking out the window._

_BANG. BANG. BANG._

_The Five breaking down the door._

_His mother and father hiding him the closet._

_CRACK._

_The Five bursting through, lunging at his parents._

_CRUNCH._

_The sound of his mother’s bones snapping. His father screaming her name._

_WHACK._

_His father punching Muggshot in the face, only to be punched back. Hard._

_**COOPER**._

_The terrible sound of Clockwerk’s monotone voice._

_SPLAT._

_His father’s body falling to the floor._

_SMASH._

_The Five ransacking his house, looking for the book._

_CREAK._

_Metal talons slowly opening the closet door. Yellow eyes staring into his soul._

_He screams. A horrible, earth-shattering scream._

“Ringtail?”

Sly rips his eyes open and gasps, his muscles springing to life. He sits up in the bed, reaching for his cane.

But it’s not there.

“Sly?”

He turns his head around so fast he almost snaps his neck.

Carmelita Fox is sitting in their bed beside him, her eyes heavy with concern.

Reality comes splashing down on him like a bucket of water. He was in their bed, safe, his cane and the book were with Bentley.

He exhales in relief. Clockwerk and the Five were gone. They could never hurt anyone else again.

But as much as he tells himself that, every time  _that_ day of the year came around, the painful memories resurface.

Carmelita reaches for him, but he gets up from the bed.

“Sly? What’s wrong?”

He turns around to face her and forces a smile. “It’s nothing ‘Lita, don’t worry about it.”

“But….you were moaning in your sleep….?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was having a nightmare. But you know what I say: dreams aren’t real.”

“Oh.”

“I’m gonna go get some air okay? I just need to clear my head. And seriously don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

“….Alright.”

She lays back down and Sly walks out of their bedroom, down the hall, to the balcony.

He opens the sliding window door and steps out, taking a deep breath as the cool night air embraces him.

The raccoon looks out at the city skyline, listening to the sounds of cars and sirens in the distance. He leans against the railing, lost in thought.

Tomorrow was the anniversary. 

He had requested weeks in advance that he have the day off. As much as he wanted to distract himself from the dreadful event, working during the anniversary would just leave him…tense.

So he convinced Carmelita that he would stay home and clean while she went into work. Their apartment needed a good vacuuming and dusting anyway.

Before he was with Carmelita, every time  _the day_  rolled around annually, Bentley and Murray would take great care into insuring that Sly wasn’t alone. Sometimes they would order a pizza and play video games, other times they would whip up some disguises and go for a night on the town.

Still, despite everything, the nightmares would pester him for weeks.

Sly let out a gloomy sigh.

He missed his brothers. He missed his cane.

The last time he had seen them was on Kaine Island, before he went into the vault. Now, over a year later, he often wondered how they were doing.

He didn’t dare attempt to make contact with them. After all, he was with Interpol now, he couldn’t jeopardize their safety.

The raccoon looks up into the night sky.

_You could leave_ , a part of his brain murmured.

He  _could_ leave, right now if he wanted to. He could leap off the balcony, find one of the safe houses, and he could break in and contact his gang. They could reunite and pull off bigger and better heists. Everything could go back to normal.

_Normal_.

He scoffed. What a stupid word. He was a criminal, nothing in his life could ever be considered normal to the average person.

He looked back at the door where he had came.

This. This was “normal.” Living in an apartment. Having a real job with the police.

God, he hated normal.

What had happened to him? He was  _Sly Cooper_ , for God’s sake! Master thief and international criminal, responsible for countless dangerous thefts!

_He didn’t belong here._

He shifted his gaze below the empty street.

The night was calling him. Calling him back to run and jump and steal all over Paris.

…But he couldn’t.

He  _couldn’t_ leave. Why kind of man would he be, leaving Carmelita? Succumbing to his kleptomania, and betraying her? Destroying everything they had built together?

He couldn’t bare to hurt her like that.

_Yes_ , he missed the glory days, like any reasonable thief would. But things change, that was the nature of life.  _He_ changed, for  _her_.

Surely his father had done the same thing when it had come to his mother?

So, despite his urges, he would stay. He would stay with Carmelita, because he loved her. Because they were finally together, like the two of them had always wanted.

To hell with normal.

His ears perk up to the sound of the sliding door opening, and he turns around to see Carmelita step out of their apartment, onto the balcony in her pajamas.

“Hey,” he mumbles.

“I couldn’t go back to sleep,” she explains. “I know you said not to worry, but I wanted to check on you.”

She walks up to him and wraps her arms around him from behind.

He purrs happily at the contact, and she buries her face into the curve of his neck.

“I know what day it is tomorrow.”

Sly feels his heart skip a beat.

“I’ll be fine,” he replies. “The living room needs a good clean, and I was planning to-”

“I wrote an email to Barkley. Told him that I wouldn’t be coming in.”

He stands upright and turns around to face her.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to.”

“But….but what about the case?! The one with the chinchilla jewel thief?!”

“It can wait.”

Sly stares at her aghast. “Who are you and what have you done with my Carmelita?”

“Sly, I may be a workaholic, but believe it or not,  _you’re_ my priority. This is what couples do for each other.”

The raccoon was at a loss for words. Then he suddenly pulls her in and hugs her tightly.

“Thank you.”

She strokes his back with her hand. “Like you always say: ‘Anything for you.’”

They stand there, arms locked around each other, until after what seems like a small eternity, Sly pulls away.

“So, what do you wanna do tomorrow?”

“I was thinking we clean the apartment together, then maybe go out to dinner?”

He kisses her on the cheek. “Sounds perfect.”

 

* * *

 

 

The late morning sun shines through the window shades, and Sly stirs from his bed. He gets up, wipes his eyes and stretches, turning around to find Carmelita…

…gone?

He looks around in confusion.  _Had she gone to get breakfast?_

Sly climbs out of their bed and walks around the apartment, void of anyone but himself.

He checks the clock in the kitchen, and it reads 11:30 am.

_Why didn’t she wake me?_

Suddenly, their’s a click from the front door, and Sly moves his head to see Carmelita walk into the entryway, a long brown package under her arm.

She freezes at the sight of Sly, standing there in the living room in his pajamas.

“Good morning?”

The fox huffs. “Before you ask, it was supposed to be a surprise.”

He cocks his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She gestures to the package under her arm. Then she walks over to the kitchen and places the package carefully on the kitchen table.

He follows her into the kitchen and she turns around to face him.

“This is for you.”

Sly smiles. “Aww, you got me a present? That’s so sweet.”

Carmelita shrugs. “You could say that.”

He walks over to the table and tears off the tape on the top of the cardboard box. He opens the lid, peaking inside and…

…his stomach drops in shock.

Slowly, slowly, he pulls out his golden cane.

The raccoon stares at it in his palms, and raises his head to gape at Carmelita.

She gives his a small smirk. “There’s more. Look inside.”

He peers back into the package, and sure enough, on the bottom there’s something small wrapped in gift paper.

Sly tilts the box and the item slides to the opening, landing in his palm.

He rips off the paper and..

…the cover of the Thievius Racconus is staring right back at him.

His mouth is dry, and tears threaten to fall down his face. Carmelita takes a step closer to him in concern.

He looks back up at Carmelita, eyes blown so wide that they might fall right out of their sockets.

“How?”

She shifts her weight. “I…..um……may have pulled some strings and had an ‘anonymous’ citizen turn over some…’evidence’ early this morning. And…..said citizen told  _me_ to tell  _you_ that he hopes you’re doing well.”

There was a pause.

“Why?”

Her smile widens. “Because I know how much it means to you, Ringtail.”

He drops his cane and the book to the ground and runs into her arms.

She greets him in embrace, and he swings her around the kitchen, laughing.

Abruptly, he lets her go and gawks at her. “Wait, what about Interpol?! What if they find out?! They’ll think I’m active!!”

“They won’t,” she replies coolly. “I am a  _detective_ after all, I know how to cover my tracks.”

Sly looks at her for a long time, then leans in for a kiss. Carmelita reciprocates, resting her hand on his cheek.

After they part their lips, Carmelita speaks.

“I will let you keep them. On one condition: we have to hide them in the closet when people come over.”

“Yes,” he breathes. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

They stare into each other’s eyes, smiling. 

“So,” Sly says. “What do you want for breakfast?”


	34. Rooftops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmelita accidentally injures Sly severely.

 

 

**“COOPER!”**

Sly dodges to his right as he hears the familiar crack of Carmelita’s pistol firing. The projectile hits the spot where he had been less than a second ago, fizzing out into sparks.

He accelerates, and leaps off the building rooftop to the next one, feet first. Behind him, Inspector Carmelita Fox gives chase. She bends her knees, raises her arms and jumps up, performing a perfect forward somersault and lands meters behind him.

He turns around and stops, just for a second, smiling.

“A beautiful move! Surely worth 10 points!”

She pauses, glaring at him, gun ready.

The raccoon cocks his head. “What? No quip?”

She charges at him.

Sly frowns in confusion, and he dashes to the edge of the building, cane in hand.

He springs into the air and hooks onto the railing of a balcony. With all his strength, he catapults himself upward and climbs onto another rooftop.

Another cracking sound, and Sly glances below him to see the metal balcony railing come alive with electricity.

“Come on ‘Lita,” he calls. “Don’t give me the silent treatment!”

She offers him no response, and instead fires two more shots.

He gets the message.  _Keep running._

The chase continues. Carmelita firing shots out into the night, Sly zig-zagging his way across the Paris skyline.

After several minutes of running and jumping, the thief hears Bentley’s voice pitch through to his comm.

“Sly! We’re in the alley two buildings ahead with the Van ready! Hurry!”

“On it!”

He leaps and bounds his way to the rendezvous point, dodging Carmelita’s bullets with the elegance of a dancer. Sly scales down a drain pipe, and hits the ground, specifically in a very large puddle.

The Van’s doors are open, waiting for him to jump in.

But before he can, he hears the  _crack,_ and automatically side-steps to his left.

At first, he’s relieved that she’s missed him, but as soon as the electric bullet hits the puddle, he remembers one very crucial detail.

_Water conducts electricity._

The effect is instantaneous. Sly screams in pain as the high voltage courses through his body. He doubles over and collapses in the alley, clothes seared and fur smoking.

“SLY,” Bentley and Murray shout in unison.

The two of them quickly eject themselves from the Van and surround their unconscious brother. Carmelita drops down from the building, a triumphant grin on her face.

“Alright boys, hands up!”

Murray carefully lifts Sly into his arms, and Bentley checks his pulse, promptly ignoring the fox.

“He’s alive but he’s hurt bad, we need to get him medical attention!”

“Hey!” Carmelita barks. “I said hands up, both of you!”

The hippo and the turtle both turn her, and their faces morph from concern into anger.

“You witch! Can’t you see you’ve almost killed him!”

She cocks a brow. “He’ll be fine! He  _just_ unconscious!”

This turns their anger into absolute rage.

“HOW DARE YOU,” Murray roars, his neck veins bulging. “YOU  _MONSTER_! HOW COULD YOU BE SO  _HEARTLESS_?!! HE’S OUR  _ **BROTHER**_!!!”

Carmelita drops her gun in shock at the pink mammal’s outburst.

Bentley pulls out his crossbow and aims it at the Inspector.

“ _I can’t believe you’re the one he fell for._ ”

As much as Carmelita is used to insults flung at her by criminals, upon hearing his venomous words, she feels something inside her snap like a twig.

The reptile fires his weapon, and a dart pierces her arm. The fox quickly rips it out, but it was too late, and she suddenly feels lightheaded.

She falls onto the cold ground, and the world turns black.

 

* * *

 

 

“Inspector?”

Carmelita’s eyes flutter open to see a young gopher in an EMT jacket kneeling beside her. She pushes herself off the ground and looks around.

Cooper and his gang were gone, replaced with several emergency medical workers and an ambulance.

“What-what happened?”

“You were drugged,” another worker replies, a canary. “Someone found you like this and called 112. Can you stand?”

The fox slowly pulled herself to her feet. “Yes, I - I think I’m fine.”

The gopher shakes his head. “We better take you to the hospital. We don’t know if that dart contains any other chemicals. You could be poisoned”

Carmelita just looks at him.

He gestures to the ambulance. “Come on. We’ll see to it that Interpol is contacted.”

Defeated, she sighs and climbs into the back of the emergency vehicle. The canary checks her vitals, but Carmelita loses herself in her thoughts.

What had she done? She had almost  _killed_ Sly Cooper in her recklessness. 

_He had it coming_ , her brain argued.  _It’s not your fault that he’s a criminal. You were just doing your job!_

But despite telling herself this, she doesn’t quite believe it.

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks pass by of radio silence from Cooper and his crew. Carmelita paces around her bedroom at two in the morning, her mind brimming with activity.

_Maybe he’s dead._

_NO_ , she argues.  _My shock bullets aren’t lethal._

_But you don’t know that if the target is doused in water._

_He’ll be fine. He’s gotten shocked before. Besides, he’s Sly Cooper, he won’t die so easily._

_Are you sure?_

She stops dead in her tracks.

_I need some air._

Carmelita makes her way towards her balcony and opens the sliding glass door. The cool night air gently brushes her cobalt curls.

She leans against the balcony railing.

_What if I actually killed him?_

_Then that’s one less criminal in the world._

_But…I wanted him_ alive _. I didn’t want to hurt him._

Her brain is silent.

BANG.

The noise makes Carmelita’s ears perk up in surprise. She looks up, but sees only darkness.

_Pigeon_ , her mind says nonchalantly.

But something in her heart says otherwise.

Carmelita thinks for a moment, then rushes to her room to grab her pistol.

 

* * *

 

 

She bursts onto the rooftop, gun ready, and looks around wildly in her pajamas.

The roof is empty.

Carmelita huffs in annoyance, then turns around to the stairway. But the door slams shut, and Sly Cooper is standing in front of her.

She gasps in surprise, then points her pistol at him.

He’s not smiling, and upon closer inspection she can see that he’s covered in bandages.

“Hey,” he calls.

“Cooper,” she responds coolly. “What do you want?”

“An apology.”

She scoffs. “For what?”

He gestures to his bandages. “That really hurt, Inspector. I thought our game was supposed to be harmless, turns out I was wrong.”

“This isn’t a game Cooper! You’re a thief, I’m a cop! I was doing my  _job_!”

“Didn’t see ‘attempted murder’ on the job description,” he growls.

She’s taken aback by his tone, and the grip on her pistol falters.

Sly takes a step closer.

“Do you  _want_ to hurt me? Is that it? Do you actually care about me at all?”

Carmelita says nothing, and he shakes his head.

“I thought we had something,” he says, barely audible.

The fox feels something in heart tug.

He looks at her, his eyes filled with strife.

“I’m leaving Paris.”

“What? Why?”

“Because if this is how you treat the people you care about, then I want no part of it.”

Another tug. One that’s more painful. A lump begins to form in her throat.

Sly turns his back on her, preparing to leap back into the night.

“Goodbye, Inspector. I hope we  _don’t_ meet again.”

Carmelita’s head begins to spin.  _He was done. He was leaving her._

_The one person closest to her._

“WAIT!”

Sly stops.

She takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t see the puddle. It was an accident.”

Sly says nothing, his back still facing her.

“Ringtail……I’m….. _I’m sorry._  I shouldn’t have hurt you so badly. I didn’t mean it. I just wanted…..I wouldn’t let you die. You know that.”

A pause, then she continues.

“What can I do to make us even?”

Slowly, he turns around and looks at her with an unreadable expression.

“Well?” Carmelita asks. 

"Nothing.”

She blinks in shock. “What?”

He gives her a small smile.

“You apologized, you’re off the hook.”

She gapes at him. “But….but I electrocuted you! Surely you’re still upset?!?!”

“How can I be upset at you? Like you said, it was an  _accident_.”

Sly walks over to her.

“Tell you what, if you’re  _really_ concerned about getting even, why don’t you give me another ten second head start?”

“When?”

“Now.”

Faster than she could blink, Sly Cooper wraps his arms around her and kisses her.

Carmelita’s brain snaps into autopilot, and against her judgement, she reciprocates. She tilts her head, snaking her arms around his neck.

After a few seconds, they pull away from each other, gasping for air.

“I knew you cared about me,” Sly whispered.

A small grin creeps its way across her face.

“Five……four…..”

Sly makes a mad dash for the edge of her building.

“Sly!”

He turns around.

“Stay away from water this time!”

Sly tips his hat. “Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson!”

And he leaps off the building.

“One!” 

The chase begins once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's probably the weakest one I've written so far...next time will be better I promise


	35. Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sly sneaks his way into a gala, and runs into Carmelita.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MATURE THEMES AHEAD. READER DISCRETION ADVISED.
> 
> (Don't worry, it's pretty mild)

 

 

The raccoon effortlessly makes his way across the ballroom. The guests around him, high-class savants self-absorbed in their own little conversations, pay no mind. Some women turn their heads to study him, just for a moment - he  _is_ a handsome young bachelor in a tuxedo after all - then return to their drinks.

He smiles politely, but they are not his target. She’s thirty degrees to his right, talking sternly to two security guards, a handful of meters away.

Sly grins, and struts over to her, careful not to startle the young fox.

Her ears perk up, detecting his presence, and she turns around to face him. She doesn’t bother returning his smile - despite everything she’s here for business, not pleasure - her guard is raised as high as it can go.

“Inspector,” he says calmly. “A word?”

Her eyes widen. She knows immediately who he is, the India fiasco has left her more observant when it comes to disguises and voices.

She turns back to the guards and dismisses them. They nod, and return to their posts.

The fox takes his arm, and guides him to the edge of the venue, between two large marble pillars. She glares at him, a look that could make flowers shrivel, and folds her arms.

“Cooper,” she addresses him. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t scream for security.”

He doesn’t answer her straight away, he’s too busy admiring her trademark black dress with the long slit in the hip. Her cobalt blue curls are pinned up, but a few rebellious strands escape and hang around her heart-shaped face. Her eyeliner is sharp enough to kill, and the red in her lipstick tugs at his heartstrings.

She clears her throat, signaling that her patience is wearing thin, and Sly snaps out of it. He meets her intense amber eyes with his chocolate ones, and his lips unfold into another one of his playful smiles.

“How about two?”

She tilts her head, still giving him a serious look. “Explain.”

“The philanthropist hosting this black-tie gala is actually running a trafficking ring. If you alert the guards that  _I’m_ here, you’ll lose the opportunity to make a  _meaningful_ arrest.”

The Inspector scoffs. “Implying that  _your_ eventual arrest  _won’t_  be meaningful?”

He shrugs. “Would you rather arrest  _me_ tonight and let him get away, or arrest  _him_ and possibly save lives from a lifetime of torment?”

There’s a deafening pause.

“How do I know you’re not bluffing?”

“Would I lie to you about this? In fact..”

He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a thumb drive.

“…All the evidence is right here, courtesy of Bentley.”

She reaches for it, but he pulls away his arm.

“I’ll give it to you under one condition.”

She grits her teeth. “Which is?”

“One dance.”

The fox’s body tightens in anger. “No.”

He looks at her sadly. “I see you’re still angry about India.”

“Of course I am. You  _used_ me Ringtail. I am  _never_  letting you take advantage of me again.”

Sly feels something in his heart sink like a stone. 

“I didn’t mean to take advantage of you, Carmelita. I did it because I don’t want the Parts in the wrong hands. They  _need_ to be destroyed, and if Interpol and the Klaww Gang won’t do it, then I will.”

He takes a breath.

“Carmelita Fox, I am so sorry. What I did was wrong, and I’d like another dance, a  _real_ one this time.”

She cocks an eyebrow, and the tightness on her body slightly loosens. But her guard is still raised.

“How do I know you’re not here to steal something?”

“Because I came here without backup. I have no cane and no gang.There’s no comm in my ear, see?”

He gestures to his left ear, and sure enough, it’s void of any device. Carmelita can confirm it with her keen eyesight from where she’s standing.

“Bentley originally wanted to send this drive to you via drop point. But I…may have taken it without him knowing.”

“You wanted to deliver it to me personally?”

“Correct. And what better time than at the scumbag’s own party?”

Carmelita just gapes at him, the gears in her mind actively turning. He shifts his weight nervously, was she going to turn him in?

She closes her eyes and inhales.

“Fine.”

Sly feels something warm bubble up in his chest. He grins from ear to ear, and offers her his arm.

The fox hesitates, just for a moment. Then she loops her arm around his, and he leads her from their hiding place to where the band plays.

He taps the conductor on the shoulder, a calico cat, who turns to face the two of them, looking slightly disgruntled.

“ _Vuelvo al sur,_ ” Sly murmurs to him.

Carmelita glances at the raccoon, her face reflecting a bit of shock at his demand.  _Another tango._

The cat sneers. “We don’t take requests.”

Sly coolly slips into his tuxedo jacket and pulls out a two hundred euro banknote.

“How about now?”

The cat’s eyes widen in shock. He gawks at him, and accepts the note.

“Apologies monsieur, I did not understand. Please give us a moment.”

Sly nods. “Of course.”

He sees Carmelita swallow in anticipation as they stroll to the dance floor. Couples move aside and make room as the current waltz that is playing ends.

There’s a bit of applause, but the raccoon and the fox are too busy adjusting their postures. 

Sly curls his arm around Carmelita’s waste, his hand resting on her hip. His other hand traces across her arm, and he interlaces his fingers with hers. She slides her free hand up his back, and Sly feels his heart pick up speed.

The song changes, and the violins begin playing the slow, sensual melody.

They stare into each other’s eyes, their noses slightly brushing.

“You better be right,” Carmelita whispers.

He smiles. Then they move.

The two pace across the floor, moving in time with the music. They stop, spin, and glide into the other direction.

As they dance, the guests around them pull away from their conversation and watch them with curious eyes. The people on the dance floor move out of the way, in fear of disturbing the dominant dancers.

They sway together, then come close. Their legs are completely in sync, kicking and stepping as if they were having a conversation. They spin once, twice, and Carmelita wraps her leg around Sly’s waist as he dips her.

Sly feels something ignite deep in the pits of his stomach. They pause, and he paces around her, his hand trailing against her fur, not breaking eye contact.

“You’ve improved,” she breathes.

“I’m glad you noticed,” he replies, his voice dripping with desire.

They come together, and move across the floor. The room is silent save for the tango music, no one dares disturb the fragile peace.

He’s behind her as they sway, and he breathes in her perfume, causing something inside of him come undone. By now she’s noticed how the dance has changed from simply a tango to something…more intimate.

But she doesn’t stop.

She turns around and looks at him, her pupils so dilated that her eyes are almost black. His breath hitches in his throat, and Sly realizes that they’re on the same page, the same level.

He wants her, and she wants him.

As he dips her one last time, the song ends, and they hold their position. The room erupts into thunderous applause, but neither of them notice.

Sly pulls her up, and suddenly the gala melts away, fading into black. They stare at each other, their lips centimeters away.

“That was one hell of an apology,” Carmelita murmurs.

He doesn’t respond, for once he’s at a loss for words, and the fox snakes her right hand to his cheek, her left resting on his neck.

He wraps his arms around her waist, and closes the distance between them.

She gasps softly, but reciprocates. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, pushing his tongue past his teeth and rubbing it against hers. A soft groan escapes from the back of her throat.

They’re lying down now, on something soft. Sly pulls his mouth away from hers, spreading kisses down her jaw, to her neck.

His hands move away from her waist and travel all across her body. Something in the back of his mind registers that her dress is gone, and so is his tuxedo, but he pushes it aside. Carmelita makes a small noise, almost a moan, and rakes her claws down his back.

He bites and sucks the place where her neck meets her shoulder, and his mind kicks into overdrive. He thrusts inside of her, and she cries out in ecstasy.

They move together now, underneath what Sly presumes is a bed. She rolls her hips upward, and he’s gasping for air.

“Sly.”

“‘Lita.”

He buries his face into her neck, memorizing the feel of her, the smell of her.

“Sly.”

He moves faster, his blood is burning, so hot that he feels like he’s about to ignite.

“Sly! Wake up!”

Suddenly, his eyes snap open, and he jumps up from his blanket.

He looks around wildly at his surroundings, breathing heavily. Carmelita is gone, he’s lying down in the back of the Van, and Bentley is looking over at him from the passenger’s seat.

“I found out where Rajan is! Murray just went to get some snacks, we’ll be hitting the road soon.”

Reality comes crashing down on his head.  _He had been dreaming._

“Sly, are you okay?”

The raccoon rubs his eyes. “Yeah……I just……..I need to use the bathroom.”

Bentley cocks an eyebrow. “Well, go now! We’re in front of a gas station.”

He nods vigorously, and gets out from behind the Van. Sly quickly walks into the store, asks where the restroom is, and locks himself inside, dragging air down his lungs.

He turns on the faucet and splashes cold water on his face. It drips down his fur, and he gazes back at himself in the mirror.

_It was just a dream._

Sly doesn’t know how to feel - embarrassed, sad, angry? Ever since the tango at Rajan’s Ball, something between him and Carmelita had changed, evolved.

He sighs. As much as he wishes she were here right now so he could…. _apologize_ , he doesn’t have the luxury to reminisce.

First thing’s first, he had a tiger to trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..........oops I did it again..........


	36. Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sly and Carmelita prepare to leave Paris.

 

 

“I think that’s the last one.”

Sly drops the box at the foot of the door and stretches his back.

Carmelita does a quick headcount, the nods. “And you’re sure you packed the tall lamp?”

“Yep. Murray helped me get that out this morning.”

“Speaking of which, where is he?”

“He went over to one of our old safe-houses to drop off the heavy stuff. He should be back any minute now to help us with the remaining boxes.”

“Good,” she murmurs. “It was awfully nice of him to help us pack.”

“Yeah, well, he does have the Van. But be prepared for him to be a blubbering mess when we board our flight this Thursday.”

He’s smiling, but his eyes beg to differ. Carmelita takes a deep breath and looks around the barren apartment.

“So who’s going to say it?”

Sly cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“The elephant in the room.”

He opens his mouth, then shuts it. A few seconds pass by in awkward silence.

“Okay,” the fox says. “I’ll start.”

“I’m sad that we’re leaving Paris, but I know that we made the right choice. We both know that we can’t live a lie; the amnesia excuse wouldn’t hold out forever. So I resigned from my post, and you reached out to Bentley, Penelope and Murray to let them know that we were planning to move.”

Sly looks at her, his expression filled with sentiment.

“But do you really think leaving the city is necessary?”

“Absolutely,” she replies. “As much as I trust Barkley watching our backs, we’ve both made a lot of enemies over the years. And if we really want to settle down, we should do it someplace different, someplace safe.”

“But Paris  _is_ safe.”

“I know it is, but not for  _us_. We’ve lived in this city for  _years._   _If_ we stay and someone comes asking around for a raccoon and a fox together, it won’t take them long to find us.”

Sly says nothing.

“Think of it this way: if Bentley can hack Interpol’s database with his eyes closed, who else can dig up information on us?”

“Are you saying you  _don’t_  trust Interpol?”

“I’m saying that the Protection Program isn’t really what I had in mind for retirement.”

The raccoon sighs, and looks away, towards the balcony window where outside the sun is beginning to set.

“I’m just going to miss it.”

Carmelita walks over and embraces him gently, her hands resting on his back. He reciprocates, and pulls her close.

“Me too,” she murmurs.

After a few minutes, they break apart and gaze at each other lovingly.

“One more run later tonight?” He asks.

“ _One_  more, that’s it. I don’t want Interpol thinking that you’re back on the wagon.”

She jabs a finger to his chest to punctuate her point.

He nuzzles her neck. “Anything for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

The moon shines high in the clear night sky, and Sly Cooper runs and jumps all over the rooftops of Paris.

Behind him, Carmelita Fox follows, sans her shock pistol. It’s packed away in a locked metal box, her boss allowing her to keep it as a going-away present.

He glides across a wire like a ghost, and she leaps across the chasm between the two buildings. 

He’s laughing, but tears are streaming down his face. Tears of joy? Sadness? Tears from going so fast that the water in his eyes can’t keep up?

He presumes it’s all three.

The raccoon climbs up a spire and looks out over the city skyline to check his location. Carmelita skids to a halt behind him.

“Why’d you stop?” She calls up to him.

He looks down at her, then leaps off the spire, does a perfect backwards somersault, and lands on his feet a few meters in front of her.

“Just need a breather,” he says smiling. 

Sly gestures to the edge of the building rooftop, and sits on the brick ledge.

Carmelita tilts her head in slight confusion, but follows and takes a seat next to him. He snakes his arm around her, and she leans against him.

The two of them look out to the Parisian skyline, admiring the city lights and sounds.

“I really am going to miss this,” Sly states casually.

“We can always come back to visit,” Carmelita offers.

“I know. It’s just……I’m just reminiscing on old times.”

She nods, and he continues.

“We’ve been through so much. It feels like yesterday when I saw you for the first time in that Opera House. That was when I had just moved into town, and now I’m leaving it…”

He sighs.

“But in the end, cities are just cities. The memories are what count the most, and I’ve made a lot of memories here, especially with you.”

She hums in agreement, and Sly abruptly stands up and offers his hand.

Carmelita takes it, her confusion growing, and he pulls her up to him.

“Carmelita Montoya Fox, you are without a doubt, the most hardworking, brilliant, and beautiful woman I have ever met. You have been with me through so much, from Clockwerk to the Vault, and even though we often were on opposite sides, when we work together we make an impeccable team. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like if I had never met you, and I  _don’t_ want to imagine.”

The fox blushes red with flattery. But before she can say anything, Sly gets down on one knee.

“I love you, and I’m so happy that after years of running and chasing, I finally get to be with you. So…”

He takes out a small velvet case from his pocket and opens it, revealing a small golden ring inside.

Carmelita hitches her breath in astonishment.

“…will you marry me?”

He looks up at her, her face riddled with shock. She looks down at him, his face positively beaming.

The Parisian city is alive all around them, buzzing with anticipation, the full moon above serving as the only witness to the rooftop proposal.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Sorry if it was a bit short, the past week has really taken a toll on me when it came to writing...  
> Thanks for reading the seven chapters of non-stop SlyFox! We now return to our regularly scheduled Sly Cooper anthology stories!


	37. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmelita gets an unexpected visitor.

_Creak._

Carmelita’s eyes snap open at the faint but distinct noise. The conclusion was instantaneous – there was an intruder in her apartment.

She slowly moves her hand under her pillow and grasps the handle of her shock pistol -  tensing her body – preparing for a fight.

Light but audible footsteps approach her bedroom door. She silently curses herself for leaving it open halfway – if the door was closed then it would have bought her more time.

The fox keeps her breathing steady, and braces herself. The assailant shuffles into her bedroom and stops a few meters away from her bed.

His breathing is heavy, so she deduces that given the amount of noise he’s making, he intends to wake her.

Time stands still as she waits for the unknown intruder to make his move. If he as so much lays a hand on her – she’ll be ready.

But he just stands there, breathing heavy, waiting.

Carmelita counts to five, then ten, then twenty in her mind. But he does not move.

After waiting nearly thirty seconds, she decides it’s time to take action.

In a blur, she sits up in her bed and pulls out her shock pistol, cocking it at the trespasser. The room is dark and her sight is limited, but she detects him taking a step back.

“Hands,” she barks.

The intruder says nothing, but after her eyes adjust to his silhouette, she vaguely sees two arms halfway raised.

She reaches for the light on her nightstand and flicks the switch. Light suddenly floods into her bedroom, and her eyes widen in surprise.

(Then again, why should she be surprised? Who else could easily break into her apartment with minimum effort?)

“Cooper?”

A small smile flashes on his face.

“Hi,” he croaks.

She lowers her gun and gapes at him, blinking several times.

He looks…terrible.

His clothes are in tatters, ripped at the seams and covered in dirt. There’s a large gash in his shoulder, cuts and bruises all over his exposed body, fur matted. His left eye is dark and swollen, as well as his snout, and upon closer inspection his bottom lip is red with blood.

Carmelita just looks at him, unsure of what to say or do. In the back of her mind something cautions her about this being a ruse – a trap. He had entered her apartment unarmed (a quick scan confirms that he is without his cane), looking like he had just escaped Hell. Surely that was evidence enough that he was trying to gain her sympathy? Or perhaps deceive her into thinking he was without a plan?

But…

He smiles warmly, but the expression does not meet his eyes. In fact, Carmelita swears that his eyes reflect panic and desperation rather than calm.

Seconds tick by in silence, and Sly Cooper clears his throat.

“I know it looks bad, but you should see the other guys.”

She snaps back to reality, and silently gets up from her bed. She slowly approaches him, gun still in hand but not pointed at the raccoon.

He swallows in anticipation, his leg twitches ever so slightly.

Carmelita cocks her head, studying his markings – evaluating whether or not they are legitimate.

“Is anything broken?”

He blinks. “Pardon?”

She huffs in annoyance. “Do you have any broken bones?”

A pause.

“I think my nose.”

As if on cue, a streak of blood runs down from his right nostril. He quickly shields it with his hand.

Carmelita takes a deep breath. She tosses her gun over her shoulder on the bed.

“Bathroom. Now.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Sly shuffles towards her bedroom bathroom, with Carmelita tailing him.

She flicks on the light and he turns to face her, awaiting her orders.

“Sit,” she demanded.

He meekly sits on the toilet seat.

She bends down and opens the sink cabinet, sifting through its contents looking for first aid materials.

“Grab some toilet paper and try to stop the nosebleed,” she says, head buried in the cabinet.

Sly obeys. He grabs fistfuls of the white paper and presses it against his nostrils, rearing his head back.

She pulls away from the cabinet, her arms filled with bandages, ointments, and other medical items. She carefully places them on the sink counter, lining them up.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” He asks, his voice nasally.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“But-”

“Take off your clothes.”

His eyes widen. “Seriously?”

She folds her arms and narrows her eyes. “Do I look in the mood to screw around?”

He shakes his head.

The raccoon rips bits of tissue and sticks them in his nose. Then he gets up and takes off his shirt, pants, shoes, and gloves.

Carmelita assesses the damage carefully. The gash is rather nasty, and might need stitches in the future. Blood is caked on his fur here and there, but nothing seems so urgent that he needs a hospital.

They say nothing as she addresses the gash. She cleans the wound and he hisses in pain, but does not protest.

She wraps the gash in bandages, and moves on to the smaller cuts.

Minutes pass in silence as the Inspector carefully treats each wound with care. Sly studies her, unsure of what to say, but it seems that she is not in the mood to make small talk. He feels as if an unnecessary quip would land him in more pain than he’s currently in

After what seems like hours, Carmelita finishes treating him and stands up. He looks up at her, his eyes almost like a child’s – full of curiosity and confusion.

“Alright,” she stated. “Come with me.”

He freezes. “Are you going to arrest me?”

She looks at him with an expression Sly can’t identify, and he runs cold with fear.

“No.”

The raccoon rears his head back in shock.  _Had he heard her correctly?_

Carmelita briskly turns around and walks out of the bathroom. He gets up and follows her, out the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room.

She flicks on some lights and checks that the curtains are drawn. Then she turns back to face him.

“Sit down,” she orders.

He sits on the couch, wearing nothing but bandages and boxers. The fox then goes into the coat closet and takes out a blanket, tossing it to him.

He snatches it midair, grunts in thanks, and wraps the cloth around him.

She crosses the room and grabs a chair from the kitchen, dragging it into the large room and sits down on it backwards, her arms crossed over the back of it.

Sly looks at her, and she glares back him in silence, her brows furrowed.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

“Don’t mention it.”

He shifts on the couch nervously.

“So…what now?”

“Where is your Gang?”

His blood runs cold. “They scattered.”

“Because?”

“We were attacked, ambushed.”

She cocks a brow in confusion. “By whom?”

“I think another Gang.”

“So why did you come here?”

He shifts again and says nothing.

“Answer me Cooper.”

He looks away. “The emergency rendezvous point was compromised. I….was scared.”

“So you came to me?”

He looks back at her, eyes filled with…an unknown emotion.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Carmelita is taken aback by the amount of honesty in his voice. But part of her still remains skeptical.

_Why would he come to her, of all people?_

(She already knows the answer, but she refuses to acknowledge it)

The fox looks at the clock on the table, reading 3:21 am.

She looks back at Cooper, and sees how heavy his eyelids are, how tired he must be.

She takes another deep breath, and silently curses herself for the decision she’s about to make.

“Alright, I don’t have to work tomorrow. Get some sleep and in the morning we’ll figure out what to do.”

He tries to speak, but she cuts him off.

“Don’t even try to make a run for it. If you do I  _will_  bring you in.”

He snaps his mouth shut.

“I can give you another blanket, and later I’ll get you some new clothes.”

He nods.

She swiftly rises from her seat, walks over to the closet to grab a second blanket and gives it to Sly. He takes it, and they linger for a moment, looking at each other in solidarity.

Carmelita swallows, and turns away from him, walking back to her bedroom.

“Inspector?”

She spins around.

“Good night.”

She gives him a neutral look, and nods.

The vixen heads back into her bedroom, turns off the light, and climbs into her bed. But after tossing and turning for thirty minutes without sleep, she removes herself from the bed and creeps back into the living room.

Sly Cooper lays there on her couch, curled up in blankets, snoring lightly. She looks at him, unsure what to think or feel.

She sits back down on the chair and watches him as he sleeps.

_He came to her because he had no Gang, no cane, and no plan._

_He came to the one person who wanted him arrested more than anything._

_Because she made him feel safe._

_Funny._

The apartment is silent, save for the light snoring coming from the thief.

“I’ll keep you safe,” Carmelita whispers to no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about that hiatus! But as my college semester comes to a close I hope that I'll be able to add more entries and possibly some new works!
> 
> I felt that the ending here was too curt, but then again I kinda ran out of steam.
> 
> I accept constructive criticism! Please don't be afraid to critique!


	38. Visiting Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gangster gets a visit from his mother.

 

“Tony Mancini!”

The bulldog stops in the midst of doing his morning workout in his cell. The prison guard walks over in front of the barred chamber.

“Whaddya want?”

“You got a visitor.”

He huffs. “I don’t get any visitors.”

The officer, a gorilla, crosses his arms in annoyance. “It’s your mother. She was very insistent.”

The dog’s blood went cold.

“My ma?”

“Yes, Mancini. Hurry up and get dressed. I gotta take a leak.”

Tony growls, and slips on his prison jumpsuit. But in the back of his mind – he’s deeply concerned.

He hadn’t seen his mother ever since he had left home to pursue his dream of becoming a hardcore gangster. In fact, he had believed that ever since he had broken her heart by becoming a criminal, she wanted nothing to do with him.

But if she wanted to see him, while still in jail because of that  _fucking_  ringtailed-rat, he knew something was wrong.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony stomps his way over to the visiting quarters. Other prisoners made sure to steer clear of him, after all he is a six-foot, two hundred fifty pound monster of a man. But when he slams open the door – he sees her.

He freezes like a deer in the headlights.

She’s wearing a flowery dress with a shawl, her pointed glasses far down her snout, reading a newspaper. She looks up, as if detecting her sons presence, and gives him a small but sad smile.

Tony’s lower lip begins to quiver. But upon looking at the other prisoners and guards in the room, he snaps out of it.

_Don’t you dare cry like a stupid baby. You’re a grown man for God’s sake!_

He swallows, and slowly approaches the table where his mother sits. She smells faintly of coffee and sponge cake, and it reminds Tony of when he was a child. A memory passes by in his mind, one where he’s tucked into bed and she’s telling him a bedtime story.

He takes a seat at the round table, and his mother folds the newspaper and replaces it in her purse.

“Hello Tony.”

His ears perk up at the sound of her voice. She sounds older, but nevertheless, it was her melodic voice.

“Hi Ma,” he mutters weakly.

Tony mentally smacks himself for sounding so pitiful – sounding like a child.

“How have you been?”

What can he say? That he’s fine? He’s in  _prison_ , what kind of question is that?

But what else could she ask? It’s not like she has a vast array of options for questions about his life. He’s a criminal through and through, he made his choice.

At least she’s trying to be thoughtful about it.

“Fine,” he huffs.

The older dog scoffs. “Just...fine?”

Now Tony may have a temper, but when it comes to his mother, the temper turns into an unusual and almost unbelievable patience. He had always been very careful not to get on her bad side, after all she was his  _mother_ , the woman who raised him. He may be a gangster, but he knows when respect is due.

Had it been anyone else scoffing at him at the table, that person would’ve had their head split open in seconds.

The bulldog sighs. “I’m in  _jail_  Ma, I don’t think anything here is fine.”

He expects her to say something like ‘Well it’s your own fault you’re here in the first place.’

But to his surprise, she doesn’t.

She gives him a sad smile. “Have you been eating?”

“Yes Ma. But the food here is  _shit_.”

“Language Tony.”

“Sorry.”

There’s a pause, in the background other prisoners are making small talk to their relatives.

Tony clears his throat. Although he’s patient only when it comes to his mother, that patience doesn’t last forever.

“Let’s just get to the point,” he huffs. “Why are you here? I thought you disowned me.”

She looks at him, confused.

“I never disowned you Tony. I was upset because you made a bad choice. But you’re my son, and despite everything, I still love you.”

“True, after what happened in Mesa City, I was shocked and appalled. But I never stopped loving you, and I don’t think I ever will. You were just misunderstood, even as a child, and as much as I wish I could have made you a better man – if you’re happy with the path you chose – then I believe that you should keep going.”

Tony is taken aback by her words, and to his horror, tears start welling up in his eyes.

“Ma, it wasn’t your fault. I made my choice, I’m a bad man. But now I’m serving my time. I’ve been thinking a lot about Mesa, and I know what I did was wrong. So when I get out of here, I’m gonna go legit, for real this time.”

Tears stream down his mother’s face.

“I’ll make you proud Ma. Tell ya what – when I’m done: I’ll come home. I’ll start over, and I’ve been thinking about starting a business for people who wanna get strong, like me. Like a gym.”

“Tony,” she sobs. “I’m dying.”

Time stops.

The bulldog feels lightheaded.  _What had she just said?_

“No.”

She shakes her head slowly. “There’s a tumor in my brain Tony. The doctor says I only have weeks left.”

“Ma….”

The older woman takes out a handkerchief and dries her eyes.

“I came because I wanted to see you one last time.”

For the first time in his life, Tony understands something. He understands why his mother wanted to see him so badly.

She had wanted to make amends.

The guards blink in surprise when Muggshot, the Two-Gun Tony Mancini, the toughest bulldog in the slammer, starts to cry in public.

His mother gets up from her seat and consoles him, as if he was a child once more. He hugs her tightly.

“I’m sorry Ma,” he whimpers into her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this one's a bit short, I didn't know how to end it lol


	39. Family Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean Bison connects with his long-lost descendants.

 

 

“Uncle Jean?”

The gargantuan bison looks up from his morning newspaper to the small crimson-furred calf.

“What’s up kid?”

“Is it true that you were in a gang of thieves?”

“Dean!” A female bison shouts from across the kitchen. “How could you ask that?!”

The young calf winces at his mother’s scolding, but Jean waves a hand in dismissal.

“It’s alright Jessica. You know he was gonna learn about it one day.”

Jessica sighs. “It’s just…it’s not appropriate for a ten-year-old.”

“I can handle it!” Dean argues. “Arthur is thirteen and he knows all about it!”

“Because your cousin comes from a family that doesn’t know a shred of privacy.”

Jean Bison bursts out in tumultuous laughter at his descendant’s quip.

“Alright, alright. No need to drag your sister’s family in the mud.”

She huffs. “I will have a word with her. We don’t need any more secrets flying around.”

The elder bison gets up from his chair.

“Come on Dean, let’s go talk in the living room while your mother makes breakfast.”

Dean Bison smiles in delight and rushes to the adjacent room, plopping himself on the carpet, while his ancestor humbles over to the recliner.

“So kiddo,” he grumbles as he sits down on the cushion chair, “what do you wanna know?”

The calf thinks for a moment.

“Ummm, who were the Klaww Gang?”

As much as Jean Bison is a tough old bison, hearing the name of his former affiliation makes him slightly wince.

“Well…let’s just say we weren’t friends. They were a group of people who…well…stole some things and wanted to…basically rule the world. Or at least a good chunk of it.”

Dean cocks his head in confusion. “Rule the world?”

“I guess. Their goals were never clear to me. Dimitri and the Contessa wanted more money. Rajan wanted power. And Arpeggio wanted…well…a new body.”

The calf looks at him even more perplexed. “What did you steal?”

“We…stole something called the Clockwerk parts.”

His eyes widen. “You mean… _the_  Clockwerk?”

“Yeah. I guess Arthur told you about him too.”

Dean nods. “He was like…this evil robot right? Who built a death ray? Until…some Cooper guy stopped him?”

As soon as Dean says the word ‘Cooper’, Jean tightly grips the arms of the recliner. The wound may be old, but it’s still fresh in the back of his mind.

“Yeah…”

“So, if some of your….old gang wanted money and power…and a body…what did you want?”

He blinks in surprise.

“I….I’m not sure.”

“Arpeggio was the one who found you right? In Canada?”

“Yeah, he was the first man I met when I thawed. He took me in and nursed me back to health. I felt like I owed him….so I joined his gang and basically did whatever he told me.”

“So, you didn’t want money?”

“Not really no.”

“But…why? Why do all of those things and not get rich?”

Jean Bison looks away from the boy, lost in thought.

“Because it was all I had.”

He turns back to Dean.

“Back in the day, I used to do a lot of things. Good and bad. But my main job was cutting down trees and damming rivers and…hunting wildlife. It was all I knew. So when Arpeggio told me I could continue to do what I loved without any problems, I was overjoyed.”

“Until…you learned about deforestation and global warming?”

“…yeah. Had I known that doing too much of that would cause the whole world to melt, I would’ve stopped.”

“Is that why you’re vegan now?”

“Yep.”

“But…what about the Klaww gang?”

“What about them?”

Dean Bison shifts his weight. “What…what happened to them?”

“They…went to jail.”

“But not you?”

There was a pause.

“After I learned about Arpeggio’s death and the Klaww Gang breaking up, I was approached by the Canadian police and the American FBI. They told me that if I joined their side, and stopped doing what I was doing, then all the charges would be dropped.”

“So that’s why you’re in the EPA?”

“That’s right.”

“Boys! Breakfast is ready!” Jessica Bison calls to them from the kitchen.

Jean Bison gets up from his recliner. “Great! I’m starving!”

“Uncle Jean?”

“Yeah, what now?”

“Did the government also tell you about…us? How you had descendants?”

“…they did.”

“And are you happy with us?”

The bison thinks. He thinks about his parents, Jack, Arpeggio, and about his newly-found family.

He smiles and pats Dean’s head.

“Yes. Yes I am very happy now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is also a bit short, but honestly? A good write.


	40. Inside Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sly and the gang need help from an old enemy for their next heist.

 

 

“No.”

“Sly, listen, I know it’s not ideal-”

“No kidding.”

“-but my hands are tied. In order to know what were dealing with, we need outside intel.”

The thief crosses his arms, glaring at his reptilian friend.

“We’ll find someone else, anyone else.”

“And just how many people do we know that are experts at robbing boats?”

“Bentley, if this is what you’re seriously suggesting so we can just rob some snob’s yacht, then maybe we shouldn’t go through with this heist in the first place.”

Murray spits out his soda in shock. Bentley just gapes at Sly.

“How could you say that?! We’re thieves! Do you have any idea how much loot will be on that yacht?!”

The raccoon pinches his snout in frustration.

“Guys, I love stealing from the rich as much as the next thief, but maybe we should consider sitting this one out.”

“But-”

“If we’re getting  _him_  involved, then I’m not doing it. That’s final.”

He turns around and begins to walk away.

“Inspector Fox will be there.”

Sly stops.

“According to my sources, she’ll be undercover posing as a caterer for this slimeball’s big yacht party.”

“So?”

“ _So_ , she’s going in  _alone_. If by chance she gets discovered, she’ll be in a lot of danger.”

Sly turns around.

“Carmelita can take care of herself.”

Bentley shrugs. “All I’m saying is that if  _you_  were there as a precaution, it would give you the opportunity to…help her out.”

His brows furrow. “Are…are you seriously trying to coax me into this by using Carmelita as  _bait_? That’s playing dirty.”

“Maybe. But even though I’m not crazy about Inspector Fox as much as you are (Sly scoffs), I feel like she may have gone in over her head this time. The party will be crawling with criminals and thugs, and I  _don’t_  think they take prisoners.”

Sly looks away, lost in thought.

“All you have to do is ask  _him_  a few questions. But I have a feeling that he’ll want some sort of compensation.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m helping him escape,” Sly snaps.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that, but if it does, then we won’t go through with the heist. Deal?”

“…fine.”

The raccoon turns his back to Bentley.

“But I’m still going on that yacht to help Carmelita either way.”

“Really?”

“You said so yourself  - these guys are  _dangerous_. I will not just sit by and do nothing if there’s a good chance she can get herself killed.”

Bentley sighs and shakes his head.

“Your funeral pal.”

Sly walks out of the room, down the hallway, and enters his bedroom, closing the door.

He sits down on his bed and scratches his chin.

 _Just question him_ , he thinks.  _And then you can go and steal some things and maybe even help Carmelita._

 

* * *

 

 

Breaking into the correctional facility is no easy feat. But with Bentley’s help, Sly slips into the jail disguised as a guard without breaking a sweat.

“According to the records – he’s in solitary,” Bentley’s voice buzzes into Sly’s comm. “Apparently there have been several incidents.”

“Didn’t pick him as the brawler,” Sly grumbles.

“Oh no he doesn’t instigate fights. He just…freaks out the other inmates.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. Remember his weird teeth?”

“ _Please_  don’t remind me about the teeth.”

He chuckles. “Block E Cell 223?”

“Yep.”

The thief strolls through the prison sector with ease. Most of the inmates are sleeping this late at night. But as he approaches  _his_  cell, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up tall.

He approaches the secluded chamber, and after checking with Bentley that the cameras are down, he picks the lock and enters the room.

He quietly closes the door and his eyes slowly adjust to the dark room.

“Don’t you know by now that I  _hate_  unexpected guests?” A voice suddenly calls from a dark corner of the cell.

Sly feels his body seize up, but quickly regains his composure.

_Don’t let him get the better of you._

“Oh believe me I know,” the raccoon replies. “Which is why I made sure to surprise you.”

He hears a sharp gasp, and the dark figure hops over to the center of the room, into the moonlight shining through the small window.

“By Jove! Sly Cooper!”

“Hello Raleigh,” he snarls. “How’s prison?”

Sir Raleigh smiles wolfishly, showing off his decrepit teeth.

“It is rather…quaint. Although it does have its perks. The food is decent, and the library is very vast. But enough about me. How are you? How’s the  _family?”_

Sly feels himself tense. “They’re resting a lot easier ever since you’ve been put away.”

“Good, good. But tell me dear boy, you wouldn’t wander into a maximum security prison just to catch up. So what do you want from me?”

There was a pause.

“I need information,” Sly says gruffly.

The frog’s toothy grin seems to widen. “And what makes you think I would give it to you?”

“Because if you don’t I’ll make sure that your time here is going to be  _very_  unpleasant.”

Raleigh laughs. “Is that your best threat? But believe me Cooper, I’m no fool. You came to me because you couldn’t think of anyone else to help you rob a yacht.”

Sly’s eyes widen and Bentley chokes.

“Word gets around quickly my dear boy. Everyone by now has heard about the gala being hosted by a rich oxen on his billion-dollar yacht. A party that grand surely is ripe for a heist.”

“ _Sly! Get out of there!_ ” Bentley shouts into his ear.

But the raccoon ignores him. “So what do I need to do to get you to help us?”

The frog thinks for a moment. “I suppose you breaking me out is off the table?”

“Not happening.”

Raleigh nods. “Quite understandable. After all I’ve done, I must admit that I don’t deserve my freedom. Not yet anyway.”

He turns away from Sly and looks up at the window.

“Perhaps if you acquired something for me, then maybe I can be of assistance.”

“ _Sly! What are you doing?!_ ”

In frustration, Sly removes the comm from his ear. “What do you want? Money? Jewels?”

“Butterflies.”

“ _What?_ ”

“You heard me correctly. I want butterflies. And not just any butterflies, I want  _Miami Blue_  butterflies.”

“But…why?”

“My young boy, I am a frog. We eat insects. Figure it out.”

Sly sneers. “What’s so special about Miami Blue butterflies?”

“They’re  _endangered_. But when simmered in a cast iron pan along with some herbs and spices – they are the most delectable cuisine.”

“So…you want me to steal endangered butterflies for you to eat – and then you’ll help me with the heist?”

“Correct.”

He folds his arms. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I hope you find someone else to help you with your robbery.”

Sly clicks his tongue and weighs his options.

_Steal some butterflies and get Raleigh’s help, or try to infiltrate a high-stakes yacht party without valuable intel._

_And possibly jeopardize the heist._

_And Carmelita._

Sly takes a deep breath. He had made up his mind.

“Where can I find these Miami Blue butterflies?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly thrilled on how this one came out...


	41. Dreamtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murray meets the Guru for the first time.

 

 

The hippo hikes across the barren Australian outback, a large backpack on his shoulder.

The sun was setting, painting the open sky with orange and purple hues. If Murray had the time, he would stop to admire the scenery.

Instead, he trudges along in the scorching sand, following his compass and the written instructions given to him by the locals.

 _When you approach the western canyon_ , he reads,  _look for the beaten path with andamooka lilies scattered along. Once you follow it to the center of the valley, seek out a cave covered in markings._

Murray looks up from the crumpled paper and sure enough – to his right – he sees a path with yellow flowers sprouting in several places.

He follows the instructions, the path taking him away from the steep inclines of the canyon, along the edge. It takes a large amount of willpower to convince himself to not look down.

As he walks, the sun sinks lower and lower into the desert, the stars beginning to emerge into the night sky. The walk becomes a jog – he must hurry.

Eventually, the footpath leads him down a gentle slope, to the middle of the red valley, where it stops. Murray pauses to catch his breath, and takes out an electric lantern from his pack.

_Seek out a cave._

He looks around and squints, trying to find some sort of clue to where this cave might be.

The pink hippo grunts in frustration. His eyesight is limited because of the fading daylight, and he wants to find this mysterious teacher before the temperature gets too low and the scorpions come out.

Suddenly, he spots a rock with white markings on it, a handful of meters northwest.

He approaches the large rock, and then sees another larger rock with more white paint.

As he finds painted rock after rock, he gradually approaches a large canyon wall. Then he sees it – a cave with a large decorative curtain on the outside.

At first, Murray feels excited. He had finally found what he was looking for. But then the excitement turns into worry. What if they turned him away? What if they weren’t there? What if they didn’t understand him?

He lingers outside the cave, sweat dripping down his body from labor and nerves.

_Maybe I should go back._

_Back to where?_  A voice in his head argues.  _What makes you think Bentley wants to see you again after you failed him?_

He doesn’t respond.

Murray takes a deep breath. This was something he needed to do. He needed to learn how to become better.

For Bentley.

“Hello?” He calls.

No answer.

“Anybody home?”

Silence.

He swallows, and pulls back the curtain, entering the cave.

His eyes adjust to the sudden darkness, but his lantern guides him. The walls are littered with painted markings in writing that Murray cannot decipher. It smells faintly of herbs and earth, and there is a handwoven carpet in the floor...with a small purple koala sitting on it.

Murray almost drops the lantern in surprise. He was not expecting the inhabitant of the cave to be so...quiet.

The old koala sits crossed-legged, eyes closed, hands on his knees. He’s wearing nothing but worn, native trousers. Next to him a staff is stuck into the ground with a large glowing stone attached to the top.

Murray clears his throat.

“Umm...excuse me? I’m sorry to bother you, but are you...the Guru?”

The elderly koala slowly opens one eye.

_It depends on what you seek._

Murray’s jaw drops open in shock. He talked, in a language Murray didn’t know...but he understood him?

“How...how did you do that?”

The koala smiles and opens his other eye.  _I see that you are unfamiliar with the Dreamtime._

“Dreamtime?”

He uncrosses his legs, slowly gets up from his carpet and approaches the large hippo.

_The Dreamtime allows me to do many things. It is much older than us, and it does not care for us. However, when respected and understood, it can be harnessed. One such ability is for me to communicate with others without speaking their native tongue._

“Uh...cool.”

_You have come from very far, so you must know who I am. Correct?_

Murray shifts his weight. “Um, yeah.”

_So tell me? Why are you here? Do you seek wealth and power, like the others?_

“Others?”

_I have been approached by many over the years, men and women who seek the ability to control the Dreamtime for their own personal gain. What they do not understand is that the Dreamtime cannot be used for such petty troubles. It is not a wild animal that can be tamed, it  is a river that flows eternally. You must allow it to flow into you, to control you, to guide you._

“I...I’m actually not here for the Dreamtime.”

The guru raises an eyebrow.  _Then what do you seek?_

“I...”

Murray trails off and looks away, lost in thought.

What did he want?

How could he explain to this mysterious old man that he was a criminal? That he hurt many, many people? That he failed his best friend?

That he felt so...awful?

“I don’t want to feel like this tomorrow,” Murray mumbles.

The guru cocks his head.

“I...I need guidance. I was told that you were a teacher. Can you teach me how to be...more like you? More...peaceful?”

_You seek peace?_

Murray nods. “I’ve...hurt a lot of people over the years. And...and I want that to change. I want to be a better a person, and I heard that you can help me.”

There was a long pause.

_Perhaps I can help you._

Murray’s eyes light up. “Really? Awesome!”

_But I must warn you, the path I walk is filled with challenge. You must learn to be patient, and you must be willing to undergo many trials._

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me...um...master.”

The koala nods.  _Very well. We will begin tomorrow with your first lesson._

“Oh! I almost forgot! How much is a lesson?”

The guru shakes his head.  _I do not require payment. I receive all things from the earth alone._

“Oh right...sorry.”

Murray’s stomach abruptly growls very loudly. The elder mammal smiles warmly.

_Perhaps I can interest you in some akudjura? You must be very tired and hungry from your journey._

The hippo smiles.

“That sounds great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder: if you ever have a problem with me or my writing at any time - please message me privately on tumblr. My link is in my AO3 bio, don't be afraid to reach out.
> 
> Other than that, I hope you enjoyed! Constructive criticism is always welcome!


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